Age of Darkness
by Sonicgirl582
Summary: When Dimentio pulls apart comrades with an unstoppable chaos, the hero and a previous foe are forced to travel together, both linked by the threads of fate. But why? What exactly has Dimentio done? "Where are you indeed? What is going on I wonder? What are we hiding...? Why ourselves of course." A hiss of distaste, a snarl of pure loathing. "And whose fault is that, I wonder?
1. Chapter 1

The Very Beginning 

"Hee, hee, hee, if I must be taken from this world then you're all coming with me!" Dimentio painfully chuckled as he grasped his bleeding side, weakly stumbling forward. A chilling smile remained smirking to his victims in horrifying glee. Disturbing drips echoed in the silence, the drips of his flowing blood—menacing. "Your dreams shall be shattered, your hearts shall be torn, your final breaths will be delightfully wonderful music to my ears as your final curtain falls. All shall perish under my power...including you."

Dimentio growled and his narrowed eyes abruptly shot up to meet the many shocked watchers that were staring in disbelief. There was a mischievous glint that none could miss in his villainous eyes that wrapped a tendril of dread in their hearts. His blood stained fangs monstrously flashed when he cackled; one gloved finger gently swiped the blood trickling over his lower lip. Everyone shivered, that stomach churning cackle was just so frightful, so cold and hollow, so undeniably _dangerous_. The mere sound of that tormenting laugh froze their racing hearts. Breaths held. Tension choked.

Peach, Bowser, Luigi, Mario, and Tippi all had their gazes nervously locked on the fiend who had been manipulating them all from the very beginning. Mimi and O' Chunks both sneered where they stood beside their Count in upmost loyalty— furiously glaring daggers at their traitorous companion.

The Jester swayed and hissed in pain, yet those slightly glazed over eyes never left the rest standing in the room. Everyone grimaced in disgust at the pure sight of him.

A single hand soaked in blood shakily raised to point at the bewildered Count. "...Oh, how I will enjoy dragging_ you_ down the most, my dear Count...Farewell."

Count Bleck's eye widened. How could such pure determination exist in a dying traitor's eyes? He was unguardedly taken aback by it, secretly unnerved as he gripped his jewelled cane. There was a poisonous promise lingering on those words that made him frown, contaminating his being, his mind, his soul. Consuming him physically, mentally, emotionally..._entirely._

It was the unbreakable oath of complete doom.

Tipping the rim of his hat lower over his eyes, Bleck swallowed in disguised unease: that eerie tension clutching like a tightening vice on his heart, that unbreakable oath a physical weight crushing down on his stomach—harder and harder.

For the world was no longer safe.

_No one_ was safe.

But it was _his_ fault...

And_ she_ would suffer.

Splash! Bleck instantly whipped his gaze back to Dimentio, silently cursing himself for being easily distracted by his thoughts of Timpani. The traitor with power to rival Jaydes had suddenly fallen to his knees in a crimson pool of his own blood. His distorted reflection in that pool fragmented his smirk, one tearing into many, one mirrored into a bloody dozen. Yet despite the distortion one thing was hauntingly clear...all evil smirks solely gleamed at the Count.

Dimentio's hand remained up, despite his body having fallen lower, his pointing finger drenched in blood unmoving from the white cloaked man.

All of a sudden Dimentio smiled as he hoarsely breathed, "L-Let's finish this with a great finale, shall we? A one way ticket to oblivion! C-Ciao..."

Bleck defensively raised a white sleeved arm; eyes' narrowing as black energy twisted and turned around Dimentio's palm. In surprise, Blumiere yelped when a magical gale abruptly whipped up. Undeniably powerful it was, making him glare and firmly plant his feet against it as it sucked him closer to the Jester. Growling in frustration, he gritted his teeth, desperately trying to pull away from the gripping wind. Against his will he slid ever closer to his enemy, unsure for his life, unwilling to surrender, uncontrollable despite it all.

O' Chunks unexpectedly charged towards the foe in red rage. His rage was so blinding it consumed him whole. _'Ow dare 'im! 'Ow dare tis guy threaten teh Count—tis __**monster!**_Roaring like a feral beast he mightily pulled his fist back. Eyes sworn to loyalty blazed in fury as he bellowed, "Aye, not if I 'ave anythin' teh say 'bout it mate!"

The agonised Dimentio's eyes sharpened.

At noticing the change, the Count's heart dropped.

"I'm gonna show ye a finale ye awful traitor!"

To the alarmed Count, Dimentio's aura of bloodshed wavered like a veil of dark smoke. It was as dark and true as the blood oozing with betrayal from his wound. Fading eyes seemed to, out of the blue, explode in destructive desire as his aura, invisible to all except Bleck, flared.

Even through his agony Dimentio's tone was spiteful, "You have been a thorn in my side that refuses to relent for _far _too long, Chunkies. A small and insignificant thorn planted so deep into my side the annoyance truly disgusts me. Perhaps these particular tweezers will finally pry you from me. Or better yet, from the world entirely."

As fast a lightning, Dimentio's eyes glinted. A sinister smirk curled his lips. Suddenly, he switched his aim from Bleck to the rapidly approaching O' Chunks in a blink of an eye.

"CHUNKS NO!" Both Mimi and Bleck yelled, in unison realising what was happening. The Count hastily reached to grab a hold of his arm to yank him back. Mimi growled and unravelled a morphing spider leg to trip him...but it was too late. Both pairs of eyes widened. Both missed.

Shadows grew in dark fingers, spiralling dangerously in the palm of Dimentio's hand. Crackling energy snapped as the unnatural gale grew stronger—trying to suck them all towards Dimentio. Tension consumed the room. Hearts pounded. Breaths caught—

Dimentio evilly laughed and suddenly clicked his fingers.

O' Chunks unexplainably froze mid-step: fist raised, sneer locked in place, muscles frozen. No one dared to breathe. Peach and Mimi slowly put their hands to their mouths in shock, the deadly silence like a choking vice on their throats. Mario bit his lip at realising, with a sinking heart, that the brawny Chunks was ensnared...and there was no escape.

Not even batting an eyelid, the Jester merely yawned at it being too easy, crimson sickeningly trickling down his chin from where blood could build in his mouth no more. Dangerous eyes narrowed as his pointing hand harshly clenched.

An agonised scream echoed throughout castle walls. All of sudden a black hole appeared, tearing away at O' Chunks. All gaped in horror as it formed in his stomach, a murderous orb of black that made him squirm, that made him fight to flee, to struggle free. But he was trapped, and his eyes tightly screwed shut in understanding his own fate, his own end. His echoing screams through the dark castle were enough to make them all shriek and cover their ears.

Chunks, with his last remnants of strength, forced his failing gaze to his Count. Blumiere would never admit that the glaze of accepted death in those eyes yanked at his heart strings.

Mimi's pupils unexpectedly flashed. She suddenly started to run for her dying companion, yet fortunately the Count's keen sight detected it in time. His keen eyes flashed for this was nothing if not trouble. Before the lady could pass him he swiftly swept her into his arms, ignoring her protesting. His grasp on her was firm and Mimi, try as hard as she might, could not break free.

"Let me go, Count! I can't just stand here!"

Bleck lowly growled in his throat, "There is nothing you can do, my dear. Not even Count Bleck can do anything now."

Pity filled eyes sent the female in his arms a silent apology that all could clearly read. The message poured from those orbs like softly trickling water, warm and apologetic: 'I am sorry...but I can not lose yet another.'

How had it come to this?

Right before them, O' Chunks gave one final smile to his Count—a sign of eternal loyalty even through death. Bleck was forced to look away in remorse as his cloak fluttered around him in the dangerous winds. At the same time, he forcibly blocked Mimi's vision with a hand at knowing all too well what was about to occur. The girl whimpered as the sight of O' Chunks vanished behind the Count's palm and she tried to desperately pry his hand away, but the Count was too strong.

All of a sudden O' Chunks gasped as a ripple of shadowy energy shot from his core. Windows shattered into pieces from the force, millions exploding and showering the scene with gasps of fright. The castle walls trembled at beginning to give way when black pillars crumbled loose.

It was then that the black hole that had formed within the Count's minion silently consumed its host: tore him apart, left no traces. And as soon as nothing of him remained, the intense power seemed to flicker for a brief moment before the ball of blackness began to suck the rest of them in.

But it was not that which made Bleck's eyes widen...the black hole was growing larger!

_Dimentio,_ he mentally accused.

Darting furious eyes to Dimentio, the Count growled and made sure his grip was fixed on Mimi as the monstrous fiend eyed her with bloodthirsty lust. Blumiere quickly flicked a wrist to send a magic beam the other's way in threat. Dimentio easily smacked away the warning energy as if it was powerless before continuing to motionlessly eye his prey. No, the Counts' eyes shone in fury, he was not letting Mimi go too, not in a million years. The glare he burned Dimentio with was fiery enough to burn his very soul inside out.

"Mario, what do we do?" Peach cried out over the gale, gloved arms shielding her face against the raging wind—the wind of unstoppable destruction. "We have to do something!"

"Yeah, stop standing about like idiots and get saving! I'm not your damn saviour," Bowser snorted, and defiantly crossed his arms with nostrils flaring. He then turned his head rudely to the side. "That's not _my_ job."

Tippi turned to Blumiere protecting his minion from both Dimentio and the black hole that would suck in Mimi's weightless body in a heartbeat. And there it was again, her heart swelling in her chest at that emotion, at the need to finally be beside the one she loved after so very long, after everything that they had been through. Her heart fluttered at the unbreakable need in his eyes to protect the ones he cared about...he had never truly been evil.

He would never _be _evil, never to her.

Tippi called to Bleck above the howling winds, "Blumiere, we must hurry. Time is short!"

"No!" Mimi cried out as Blumiere nodded in agreement to Tippi and suddenly spun on his heel to bolt away with his minion in hand. She struggled furiously in his grasp and reached out over Bleck's shoulder for the black hole that was becoming a giant ball of destruction—of unworldly destruction. Tears streamed down her cheeks. "N-No, please Count. Ch-Chunks! NO!"

Blumiere sadly glanced down at her distressed face and whispered, "Please stop. Count Bleck is sorry, Mimi."

Everyone: Tippi, Mario, Peach, Luigi and Bowser, all nodded to each other in agreement at the Count's action. They all followed the white cloaked figure in hot pursuit of escape.

But it seemed it would not be so easy. On his way to the exit Bleck spluttered, his heart having suddenly froze from an abnormal sensation. He gasped out in pain and clutched his head as he slowed to a halt, not unnoticed by Tippi who flew back to him in an instant.

Everyone, all except Mario, passed the Count as they fled.

"Blumiere? " She murmured in alarm. But the man did not answer.

_Hee, hee, aren't you forgetting something, dear Count?_

The Count's glazed eyes twitched in anger, that monster's voice taunted the corners of his mind.

Another unknown force was tugging at his conscious—faintly brushing his own—frantically wanting him to turn around. And it was only when he did, that he realised why and choked on air. In whipping his gaze to the black hole in the centre of the room, to the floor just below the murderous sphere of darkness, he spotted something lying motionless on the floor. A shaky exhale left him as his blood ran cold.

The Count nearly dropped the still struggling Mimi. His voice cracked, a sickening ice block lodging into his throat, "Nastasia..."

He could feel it in his mind, feel that undeniable flicker of a mental link he thought had shattered. It was so faint, so terribly faint. She must still be alive, just barely.

Nastasia's eyes flickered open for the briefest of moments. Her last remaining strength was used to shed a single tear. _C-Count...I am sorry..._

Her words trickled weakly through their mind link. Amber eyes flashed, his response instant.

"Blumiere no!" Tippi screamed when he threw Mimi aside and held her in a barrier of blue magic to keep the maiden there, before thoughtlessly flying for his fallen comrade. "That's what he wants—that's what Dimentio wants!"

Count Bleck thoughtless? No. Outstandingly courageous? Without any doubt.

He knew, just knew, that Dimentio was leading him into a trap that would be his last. But it was him or Nastasia, tainted or the innocent, and his heart burned with hate for Dimentio. He drew nearer, carried like an arrow on the gale that drew him in. Another blackened mirror exploded—his cloak gracefully flew open to deflect the shards. A pillar mightily gave way to his right—he effortlessly dodged. Nothing. Nothing was going to get in his way.

Even though Bleck was speeding towards her, Nastasia was, ever so terrifyingly slowly, being pulled across the floor towards the swirling abyss. Out of her motionless hand...her glasses were sucked up and vanished into nothingness.

Mario squeezed his hat firmly to his head and rushed from the doorway after the Count. He bolted straight passed Mimi who was frantically bashing the blue force-field trapping her yet keeping her safe. Mario's eyes softened at the sight of her angered expression. Indeed, Mimi was angry, her expression practically seethed with rage...but, it was so painfully obvious that Bleck had done it with her best interests at heart. He ignored Tippi's futile attempts to call him back. Confidence abound shone in his eyes. Nothing would hold him back.

The black hole had grown so huge that it nearly took up the entire room. It was growing more and more powerful with every passing second, drawing Nastasia in faster and faster. Pink hair wildly fluttered about her closed eyes, the blue skin of her face deathly pale. Her arms were lifting from the force of the gale. Blumiere's heart thundered in his ears. He reached out for her—desperate. Closer and closer. She lifted off the ground. She got sucked in—about to—

"Got you!" Casting all caution to the wind Count Bleck, notorious villain of the Dark Prognosticous, firmly grasped her hand at the final fatal moment. His eyes widened when his momentum nearly plunged them both into oblivion, making him hastily yank his young assistant from where she had been halfway through the portal to Death. Eyes narrowed as he attempted to pull them both away...

But the power had grown too strong.

The walls around them all of sudden tore away. Everything, everything was getting sucked in. The outside world of swirling red and black space filled with flying debris was revealed as Castle Bleck compressed from the power to breaking point. There was the undeniable feeling you get of pressure that builds and builds until it has nothing left to do but snap. There was no other way to describe it apart from they were in the centre of absolute chaos.

Bleck grunted loudly when the gale seemed to become a determined hurricane that viciously wanted to drag them in. He held his top-hat to his head with one hand and kept his other tightly on Nastasia's wrist, eyes burning with the refusal to let her go. Despite pulling with all his might...both Nastasia and himself where slowly being pulled in.

_L-Let go, Count. I, um, am not worth the effort._

Count Bleck's cloak billowed around him as his eyes shot to Nastasia in bewilderment. He saw that Nastasia's eyes were still closed, her physical body still unresponsive yet her mind lingering. His expression was a scowl of disbelief as he mentally answered, _What are you saying?! You are worth more to me than you know. I promised I would not leave you alone, and if that means even through death, so be it!_

Nastasia's mental link filled with so much despair that it made Blumiere's grip on her wrist unconsciously tighten_. But, yeah, Count...you finally found her. You no longer need my help anymore._

'_Help?' Oh, my dear Nastasia, do you truly see me as so shallow? _The Count sent a warm smile over the link which tenderly brushed her fading mind. _I may no longer need your help, but I will forever need __**you**__...just you._

Before Nastasia could reply, they felt the black hole give a heart stopping jolt. Suddenly the black hole expanded further. It was fast, strong, unstoppable. The Count screwed his eyes shut and tried to brace against it, but he was being dragged further into the black hole quicker than ever before. His eyes widened in fear when Nastasia began to get submerged in the blackness orb once again. This was truthfully it, those final moments before being lost.

"Got you!"

The Count full out growled when something familiar, or rather _someone_, ruthlessly grasped his arm to stop them falling in. God damn it could he just not interfere for five minutes! He whipped his head around and sneered at him, "Déjà vu much, _hero._ Let me go."

Mario smirked at the disdainful expression as his brown moustache fluttered in the wind. "No way, you really think that after everything I've seen from you in this final hour that I'll just let you go? You're as much of a hero as—

"Do...not...even... go there," Interrupted the Count venomously in a tone so icy it could extinguish the hottest flame. His deadly pauses, hateful glare and low tone unfazed the smaller man. "I am not, and will never be, a_ hero_."

Mario gripped the white clad arm tighter with eyebrows furrowing at hearing the man not using third person for once, he must be deadly serious. He gripped his red hat to his head with his other hand just as the Count's arm he held onto was also holding the top-hat to his own head.

Mario looked perplexed as he whispered to him, "But you are not, and never will be, a villain either...so what are you Count Blumiere Bleck?"

"I am _Bleck_ to you. _Never _call me Blumiere_! _You have no right!"

"Oh, how very t-touching. You two still refuse to be put out of your misery like mortally sick animals on their way to the slaughter? You are resilient, I hand that much to you both. But I am tired of playing useless games, th-this ends now."

Both pairs of eyes, untimely hero's and proposed villain's, snapped to Dimentio who had lain forgotten on the floor. There he lay in a dark puddle of his own blood that reflected the black hole that was becoming as much of a threat to the universe as the previous void of the Dark Prognosticus. Their expressions were disturbed at finding him still alive, just barely, lying their chuckling with gross gargles in his own life fluid. The dark magic user appeared to have very little time left.

"Mario! Blumiere! Watch out!" Tippi shrieked.

Count Bleck barely had time to catch a glimpse of Tippi flying towards them before Dimentio reacted. Dimentio suddenly shot a flaming energy bolt his way. For he, Bleck, was the supporting loop—holding both Mario and Nastasia in this life-or-death chain.

Purple flames skimmed across the Count's left shoulder, making him hiss sharply as it burnt through the material to his flesh. He tried to conceal his grunt of pain, but slithers still shakily escaped his lips. His eyes screwed shut in agony as he let the two go.

In slow motion, Nastasia horrifyingly vanished into the black hole first. Bleck's face grimaced in pain and he gripped his singeing shoulder as he too drifted through the black curtain. Mario shrieked in alarm as without the Count's arm to support him he also followed. All they could hear was Dimentio's dying cackles as they slowly got sucked in, an eternal chortle that would scar their afterlives.

With his concentration severed, Blumiere cracked an eye open and cursed under his breath when he felt his protection over Mimi shatter. Abruptly, the blue barrier encasing Mimi disintegrated in a resounding twinkle of broken glass. No sooner had it shattered did the green girl's eyes widen and she frightfully screamed as she was immediately swept off her feet towards the abyss. It seemed the Count's barrier had truly been the only thing that could have saved her.

Tippi sped towards them in an unnatural aura glowing pearl. It glowed ever so bright, blinding as she soared like a shooting star towards them. She could only watch them being consumed in the black hole's ravenous jaws. No, this could not be it. How could this be the end? Just as her love teasingly reappeared into her life he was being ripped mercilessly from her yet again.

She flashed once. She flew as an opal blur. Flashing twice, thrice—brighter. In a wave of unknown power she flapped her wings, her light so blinding it seemed to devour darkness itself. In a blink of an eye she passed through the black orb like a lightning flash.

While red and black sky filled with chaos, Dimentio's chest fell for his final curtain fall. His lifeless body dragged across the floor, the yellow bells of his jester hat jingling across the black stone like the trumpets of judgment. With eyes dead to the world he followed his victims into his final resort of destruction that had taken the life of O' Chunks, Nastasia, Mario, Mimi, Tippi, and his wanted target: Count Bleck. He had done what he had sought.

Indeed, Dimentio had done it...with the hefty price of being lost in the process.

Just moments after Dimentio passed through the black hole's veil did his creation suddenly waver a peculiar white. A heavenly light seemed to conquer the hellish shadow from deep within. What was this strange light? The black hole that now glowed pure white contracted in overload. There was an unmistakable echo of a living heartbeat as if the orb of light was frantically beating like that of a panicked heart. Only when it could take no more did the most unexpected thing occur.

All of sudden, the white orb solidified with a crackle of ice, unexpectedly freezing over, a patterned layer of crystal enveloping the black hole. It grew colder and colder, an arctic drop as it completely froze over. Everything froze just as still as the coldness of the frozen abyss.

Pure silence settled chillingly over the ruins of Castle Bleck. However, it did not survive long as the enormous frozen ice orb mightily fell. Boom! The thunderous bang could rival thunder as it crashed to the ground. Shockwaves of mist and shards exploded in its wake.

Gradually, the atmosphere eased to deadly stillness, suspense overwhelming as nothing dared to disturb the sensation of brimming sorrow, fear, and despair. Through the almost deafening silence, the destroyed terrain appeared to have a quality of its own...of ghostly prickles in the tips of your hair, like that of a suspenseful held breath.

Whatever happened to the heroes of Peach, Bowser and Luigi, remains a mystery. Whatever happened to the Book of Dark Prophecies remains unknown. Whatever happened here, amidst whatever uncertainties floated like a stifling miasma, there was only one thing that was entirely certain...

The way of which Count Bleck and the others had disappeared through...

Was forever lost.


	2. Chapter 2: Reappearing

Reappearing

Clear skies treated the Mushroom Kingdom countryside early that morning, the sun barely peeking over the rocky horizon that was its mountain range. In the dawn's rays, crickets cheerily called merry tunes to one another among the poppy fields that swished and swayed in a gentle breeze. Calmness seemed to settle over the land like a warming blanket to that of a drifting child, the delicate warmth of the rising sun the soothing hand over the creatures of the land that were its children. Everything was calm.

The light faintly glimmering over the Shiver Mountain peaks cast a glow over a country stream, lighting the surface with bright sparkles of silver and gold. Lilies of pink and wondrous white floated upon the water surface with their droplets of morning dew glittering like beads of crystal, brilliant, beautiful, breathtaking. There was that refreshing chill that only came with the dawn lingering among the stream that when it filled your lungs it felt as if it completed you. Everything was calm.

Beside the stream, a single fishertoad snoozed amidst the grass to nature's natural lullaby. The calls of the crickets, the whistles of the wind, and the lulling trickles of a flowing stream cascading over the riverbank stones all combined to form a growing melody in his drifting ears. His chest slowly rose and fell as he slept, slowly inhaled and exhaled, small hand on his chest rising with each breath during his deep, peaceful slumber. Groaning, he stretched and put one leg over the other as the signs of the morning began to rouse him from him dreams. Loudly yawning, he tilted his beige fisherman hat more over eyes in irritation to block out the rising sun.

A fishing rod he had lined and set was supported against a boulder beside the water's edge, red bobber rocking softly on the surface—untouched. He shrugged indifferently with a cunning smirk; you never know what you could catch.

Reaching to his right he grabbed a stem of golden hazelgrass and smirked as he placed it in-between his teeth to nibble on. He lay back with his hands behind his head without a care in the world: posture lazy, sapphire eyes hidden behind his hat rim, the tranquillity of nature his comforting cocoon.

Everything was calm...

Yet a frown suddenly crept onto his lips...it was_too_ calm? He could not ignore a feeling that something was wrong, be it the echoes of it through the air like a warning spirit whispering into his ear, or the ever so slight tension in the atmosphere. Either way he could feel it, hear it, sense it. He thoughtfully gazed up to the sky, to the last few vanishing stars as the sun and day took over the moon and night. Why did it feel as something was wrong?

The stem absentmindedly swapped from one side of his mouth to the other at the anxious fiddling motion of his tongue. Everything was calm, right?

All of sudden, as he stared to the starry sky above, his eyes narrowed suspiciously.

"What in blazes is that?" He absentmindedly mumbled through his stem. Sitting bolt upright he cocked his head in confusion, blinking and staring at a very strange-looking star flashing in the sky. It was so much brighter than the rest; in fact the remaining stars appeared dull in comparison.

Suspicion rapidly turned to nervousness as the star seemed to be getting...bigger? He shook his tired head; no it had to be a figment of his imagination. But, when he gazed up once more to be certain, he had no doubts.

"What in rotten mushroomshakes _is_ that thing?"

Little did he know that it was not getting bigger—it was getting closer. Crickets had strangely fallen silent from sensing something he could not comprehend. The massive white star suddenly blinked like a faulty bulb in the dawning sky, a silent proof of how it was severely out of place. The stem drooped in his mouth; he did not like this one damn bit. A good star was good an all but something about this was terribly amiss.

It was then something happened so fast that the Toad barely had time to react.

The star suddenly ignited in a pearly explosion. An almighty boom resounded as rainbow rings swept across space and instantly startled the Toad to his feet. Eyebrows furrowed as a strange noise followed, what was that approaching sound? It was faint, so peculiarly faint...

The sound of distant screaming.

"What the—NUTTING NIMBLYS!"

Three foreign figures suddenly plummeted from the white waving sky. They crashed into the stream with a tremendous splash. Water exploded as they hit. The bobber of the Toad's fishing rod was sent flying into his forehead with an over exaggerated 'oww!' He dropped to the ground like a plank of wood and his hat flew from his head, revealing indigo polka dots. Any goldfish that had been contemplating on the bait fled in terror.

After several moments of tense silence, of tense stillness, the Toad finally stood up whilst clutching his forehead in agony, warily glancing to the waters before him where the strange phenomenon had occurred. There was, indeed, four unknown strangers sprawled about in the shallows. Water vapour that had been churned up reflected the sunlight with a beautiful rainbow in the early dawn and seemed so incredibly out of place after what had just happened.

If this situation did not have such a chilling sensation of utter seriousness then the Toad would have found this rainbow sight delightful...but there was a tangible veil of dread, despair and desperation hanging over these strangers. It cloaked the unconscious three, so strong, so hopeless, so full of emotional and physical drain as if the aura surrounding them was sucking the life out of his very soul.

The stem fell forgotten from his lips in his shock. He licked his lips at finding his mouth suddenly a little too dry for his liking.

In glancing back up to the exploded star, he raised an eyebrow at seeing merely a flurry of star dust before it disappeared as if it had never existed, as it vanished into nothingness. The sky returned to normal as if nothing out of ordinary had transpired at all.

The Toad's voice hoarsely croaked, "Dang, whatever these guys have gone through...it must've been terrible. Phoebe! Come here I need ya for a sec!"

**XXXX**

_**I need to keep moving, I know I must, yet 'why' I cannot yet discern. Darkness, that is all I see, and nothing seems clear...nothing seems right. Raising my hands to feel my path leads me to nothing but empty shadows, for there is nothing there to begin with. Standing here leads nothing to me except a daunting dread in the core of my heart. And yet, when I begin to walk, my steps echo as if I am truly here, as if there is something substantial beneath my feet.**_

_**Is this merely an empty dream? What is my purpose, what**___**is**___**my dream? Where am I?**_

_**Where am I supposed to go?**_

_**I feel something tugging at the strings of my heart—the strings of my soul. The melody it plays is trying to tell me something and even now I hear it humming in this endless abyss I walk. It sings a sad lament and I feel a burning in my throat that chokes me so.**_

_**Its secret lyrics state you are gone, and those chords hold it true.**_

_**And yet I cannot believe you are gone...I don't think I could take it. I feel a frantic thudding in my chest, no it cannot be true! And so I start to run. I hear my feet thundering with every step, a desperation brewing in my chest that I cannot swallow down. Your presence no longer alerts me. Your glow no longer guides me. Your words no longer call to me.**_

_**What is my purpose, what is my dream? Where am I supposed to go? Is it not obvious...**_

_**I have nowhere left to go.**_

_**I have no purpose.**_

_**Suddenly a giant, glowing, yellow eye appears before me. It leers at me. His cackles taunt me. I have nowhere to run! Massive bloodied fangs smirk. His mouth gapes—ready to—**_

Count Bleck bolted upright with a choking gasp, amber eyes wide in both fear and concern. His laboured breaths echoed throughout the dimly lit bedroom lit by merely a candle settled on a desk in the corner of the room. Innocent flames flickered as if an unsettling draft threatened to blow it out, or was that just a hallucination conjured by the hole digging deeper into Count Bleck's stomach?

Freezing tendrils of dread were clawing like icy talons into his gut as he wiped the sweat from his brow at finding his initial panic wearing thin, yet still lingering. The hole those cold claws had made was big enough to unhinge his normally calm character for a moment, and a shaky hand covered his eyes as he tried to recover...but that hole of dread refused to fill. It was the hole everyone feels when something is terribly wrong, that heavy and deep hole, so sickeningly frosty and alarming.

Forcibly taking deep breaths, his eyes reflected his distress as they glowed in the semidarkness. However, a sudden flash of pain was also evident in those pupils. An unrestrained grunt escaped him as he suddenly hissed in discomfort, his sudden awakening actions having made the wound on his shoulder burn in objection. A delicate eyebrow rose, for when he glimpsed it in the corner of his eye, he found it mysteriously bandaged up. However, he was not given the option to mentally question himself.

"You alright, sir? You were out for a while."

Bleck audibly growled and shot his fiery gaze towards the voice. It remained unfamiliar—female. It was only then that he blinked at noticing a Toad sitting at the desk that he had not noticed before.

Clearing his throat with a sheepish expression, Bleck exclaimed, "Pardon my rudeness, Count Bleck is...on edge that is all."

The chair screeched ever so slightly as the female Toad, or in this case Toadette, shifted the chair slightly to watch him sidelong. Count Bleck was thoroughly confused, but one thing was sure—this girl would not harm him. This fact alone filled in the cold hole in his stomach somewhat.

In the glow of the dim candlelight, her indigo polka dots were tainted orange, but it was not that that made the Count stare in interest. It was her eyes. In the concealing shadows formed by the flame, her pure white eyes were fixed solely on him. They were unexpectedly stern and sceptical for a maiden whose voice was so young...

For a maiden who was undeniably blind.

She suddenly scowled, sighing petulantly as she stated, "Please sir...I find staring a less than flattering sentiment."

The Count was taken aback for a minor moment. How in Grambi's name did she know he was staring? She was _blind!_ How was that even possible? And yet, her expression of distaste could prove nothing less—she just knew. But it did not prevent the shiver that wracked his spine as, even though she was staring at him...she seemed to stare right through him as if he was merely a ghost.

"Apologies, apologized Count Bleck," Blumiere apologized like the gentleman he was, his face showing he was sincere. Although, a part of his mind debated whether or not that made a difference to a blind person. It was only then he realized the unnerving silence of the room, of the lack of others beside himself and the female Toad. A stab of anxiety hit him and he turned to face the girl with alert eyes. "Forgive me, Miss...?"

"Phoebe Phelocy T.," The girl answered strongly, her dull eyes staring off into nothing yet everything all at once. The sight was undeniably disconcerting as she finished with the ember flickering beside her. "Just call me Phoebe."

"Phoebe, I have so many questions, but I must know this: where are the four that were with me?" The Count dared to ask, his tone low and worried. The fact he slipped out of third person showed his concern.

Phoebe merely blinked. "Four, sir?"

Blumiere swallowed and tilted his hat a tad higher up to look at her properly. He did not like the sound of that, not at all.

"Indeed, there was a pixel butterfly, a short and plump man in red, a young girl with green skin, and the last with pink hair. Surely you have seen them?" The Count described and found himself stupidly waving his hands in exasperation. He abruptly froze at realising once again she was _blind_; details of appearance were pretty much useless. Rolling his eyes, the resounding smack of his palm connecting with his forehead could not be missed.

"My older cousin mentioned the one in red and the pink haired one. However, the others I have no word of. Apparently, you and the mentioned two fell from the sky on your own...there had never been any others."

_No Timpani or Mimi,_ The Count's heart began to race a mile a minute. His pounding heart thudded in his ears as his thoughts became a blur. _If you are not here, then where are you two? Nastasia..._

"Where is she?!" Bleck ordered as he abruptly shot from the bed and staggered towards her. He would have seemed intimidating if he did not look so frantic, pained and drained. "Nastasia, how is she?"

The candle flame eerily flickered even though there was truly no draft.

"The Pink haired girl? She barely moves, barely seems to breathe, has not once had a flicker of the eyelids. I am told she is stable, yet my cousin tells me she seems to be more in a coma than unconscious. No matter what goes on in that room, she does not respond. No words will reach her. No shakes will rouse her. No movement will stir her...She seems inwardly lost."

"Where. Is. She?" The Count repeated as a growl, the incident with Dimentio having driven his temper quite too far. Obviously, it was making his normal composure slip by mistake.

In comparison to Phoebe, he immensely over-towered her as he stood there in the small room. He tried to squash his anger down, but it just kept bubbling to the surface against his will. Damn that monster Dimentio!

"She is down the hall, last door on the right. The red clothed one is—

But he was already moving. Determination took over as the Count bolted for the door. He ignored the spike of agony shooting through his shoulder as he clutched the handle tightly. His cape lay forgotten beside the bed as he mightily threw open the door. There was a deafening bang as it hit the wall. Vanishing beyond, the door merely swung in his wake. He was gone.

Phoebe clasped her hands together, a curiosity present in her emotionless white eyes if you knew how to find it. She just sat there, pondering. Strange how the man in red did not seem to concern him at all, in fact it seemed he had downright cast him aside. She sighed, this man who referred to his own name 'Count Bleck' was a suspicious man in her opinion. You can not judge a book by its cover, but when you can't see the cover you can not make judgements—there is just the truth.

And the truth was that she knew he was secretly suffering, she could hear it, _feel_ it.

And it did nothing to ease her scepticism.

**XXXX**

He ran, ran for all he was worth. From every step he tried to bottle up the agony from his jostled left shoulder that had been burnt by Dimentio. Down narrow corridors he fled. Details such as the lack of carpet or even paint on the dusty walls eluded him. Every passed window bathed him in afternoon sunlight, every glass pane giving him a small glimpse of countryside beyond this mysteriously large house. A scowl appeared on his face as the scenery was _too_ calm, too annoyingly pleasant for what had happened.

There were so many questions flying through his mind: where was he? Who exactly were these Toads? Could, or should he trust them at all? What was it about Phoebe? Where was Mimi, and was she alright? Timpani, oh Timpani, where had see gone?

As he sped for the door in plain sight, for Nastasia, fragments of his previous dream returned: the sense of utter emptiness, that feeling of her—Timpani— gone forever. Shaking his head he found that the more he thought on it, the more it seemed less and less like a coincidence and the more and more like a forewarning. Sensations from his dream merged with flashes of the memory when she had followed them into the black hole. No, he would find her—at all costs. Yet, the lack of sensing her at all, as if she had been fully erased, was starting to gnaw at his conscience.

With much effort, he forced her thoughts aside and solely focused on getting to Nastasia.

**XXXX**

"Is she going to be alright?"

"Clog my socks are ya blind? She's there like she's had the biggest booze night I've ever seen...I'll have what she had! After all this, I need to get hammered."

"E-Excuse me?" Mario stammered with an eyebrow raised, perplexed.

"Utterly dead to the world. Give her a good slap with a fish that will wake her."

The hero in red blinked in confusion at the strange Toad.

"Or a koopa shell, that works too," The Toad murmured with a smirk and nibbled on his blade of grass. "Nothing like a good bash with a koopa shell to wake you up from a hangover."

"You sound like it's from experience," Mario droned. "And for the last time it's _not_ a hangover!"

The Toad grinned. "Take a chill pill, I'm experienced in the art of fish-to-shell slapping."

"...Do you have any humanity?"

"Pfft No."

"I've noticed."

"Hey, can't blame a guy for trying to lighten up what seems like a totally hopeless situation that we may never solve," The Toad stated seriously, but his cocky grin was still in place.

Mario sighed and squeezed the bridge of his nose. "Not helping, Thomas."

However, deep down Mario would admit he was relieved at discovering the Toad was only joking around.

All of a sudden, Count Bleck burst through the door, only to freeze stone-still in the doorway at finding Mario already conscious and standing there before him with another Toad, obviously male, beside the occupied bed. His abrupt entrance made the two visibly flinch and whip their heads around to face him, whatever conversation they were having harshly interrupted.

The easy atmosphere disintegrated in a heart beat, for the simple appearance of the Count brought a chilling tension that cloaked the room. It lingered, gripped, unnerved the two, as if the warmth from the air seemed to cower at his withering scowl. Mario slightly shivered and the Toad instantly became docile with a frown, the change enough to warn them into silence. Utter silence devoured them as it seemed the shadows of the room deepened. Or at least...it felt that way.

As carefully composed ambers locked on the two with hard eyes, the Count appeared to be contemplating them with his usual air of grace. Casual, that was the only way it could be described, sceptical yet casual. Mario's eyes held nothing if not sympathy for him, and it made him inwardly recoil from the gaze like a bat from the light. Expertly concealing his inner reaction, he gave the plumber a withering glare, before elegantly striding for who he had come for.

"I do not need your pity, _hero_. And you are?" The Count stated low in his throat. He directed the last part towards the extra.

"Thomas Trust T. at your service." Despite the drastic drop of atmosphere, the Toad could not seem to help but add a two-fingered salute to the tall Count. Although obviously slightly unnerved by Count Bleck, there was still a considerable confidence in his voice. Count Bleck secretly found it admiring. "And you?"

"Count Bleck to you, or just Bleck," Blumiere brushed him off, not rudely for he obviously still acknowledged him. But his eyes were focused on solely one as he sat upon the only wooden stool available beside the bed...

Nastasia.

So unnaturally still she lay, seeming lost in a deep world of dreams that she could pull herself out of. His heart skipped a beat in concern at instantly detecting her aura: strangely flickering—faint. Her pale skin did nothing to relieve his growing worry and he frowned at how the colour seemed almost white in the dark corner she lay unconscious in. Unable to stop himself, Count Bleck tentatively raised his hand with an expression of foreign sympathy, tenderly brushing aside those pink strands draping over her eyes. As he expected, his touch did not make her respond...and his stomach coldly dropped.

Behind him, Mario plucked up the courage to whisper, "Mimi and Tippi's vanished."

"Indeed? Is stating the obvious your forte?" The Count snorted in sarcasm, seeming almost heartless towards him. His eyes never left his last remaining minion. "If so, spare me."

The tense silence that followed was enough to make Bleck sigh in remorse from his previous words. He ever so slightly turned his head in order to meet eyes with Mario in the corner of his eye. Mario's eyebrows furrowed at how he appeared guarded, passive, blank. "I must search for them as soon as possible, but..." A despaired look, a tightening of the jaw. A low whisper as he firmly averted his gaze, "I worry for Nastasia."

"'I?' Don't you mean 'we?'"

Bleck scowled at the bed. "No. I do not need your assistance, nor am I interested. After what happened I acknowledge we are on mutual terms since we are no longer fighting against each other, but this is changes nothing. Hero you may be, but you know nothing. You know _nothing_ about us. Stay out of it."

"Bleck—

"Leave us, I need to be alone with her for a while," Bleck coldly interrupted. His tone left no room for argument, and no argument he received.

Mario just stood there in bewilderment for several seconds beside Thomas, who had been intelligently silent for the entire exchange. Biting down his retort with vast amounts of willpower, Mario nodded to the Toad to lead them both out.

Count Bleck did not even turn to watch them go as the sound of the door squeaking open echoed throughout the room. However, he raised an eyebrow with increasing caution at also not hearing it shut straight away.

Mario, who had halted in the doorway, one hand stiffly on the door, spoke strong and true into the suspense:

"Count, we're stuck together whether you like it or not. I'm worried sick about the others—both my team and yours. I've no idea where to start, but I want—no, _need_ to know that they're at least alive."

With these final words spoken, the Count felt Mario's pitied gaze linger unsurely on his back for a moment. Only when mere silence answered did Mario finally leave with a sorrowful shake of his head, retreating for now. Bleck released the breath he did not realising he had been holding at the sound of the door clicking closed—relieved.

Fiery eyes then hastily fixed on the motionless girl before him as he caringly grasped her slender hand. It was frightfully cold to his touch, heart wrenchingly limp in his hand. His careful thought was gentle as he reached out his very soul to brush against hers, _My dear, I know you are there._

_Count? I lost my glasses..._

Count Bleck could not help but physically chuckle at her response. _Glasses? Out of everything you could be concerned about you are worried about your glasses? My dear Nastasia...I fear there is something much more seriously wrong with you than that._

_Yeah, umm, I know. My body will not respond to my mind, K'?_

Bleck's heart swelled with pity when he caught a glimpse of the fear she was professionally trying to hide from him. She had forced it into a bottle at the back of her mind, but he had accidently managed to sense it on its journey there. It gave him both pain and pride at how she was trying to be strong despite it all.

_Where are we, Count?_ Nastasia asked curiously, finding her lack of knowledge an unsettling prospect.

In a natural mental reply, Bleck absentmindedly stroked her hand with his thumb whilst he glanced around the room. Everything he spotted he took a mental note or picture of in his mind's eye: cobwebbed white walls, a desk littered with papers, a spider scurrying across wooden floorboards, open red curtains, birds passing window, beautiful countryside outside, blue skies, lowering sun. Each visual naturally processed through his mind without a second thought just like all minds function. However, all images he captured passed over to her, almost as if his mind and eyes were becoming hers for the briefest of moments.

He could literally feel her spiritual eyes narrow at the mental barrage. _Errr, seems like a decrepit household. Anything else?_ For a quick reply, Count Bleck simply extracted images of the two Toads from his memory and showed them to her. Nastasia mentally raised an observant eyebrow; _This blind phoebe unnerves you, and you lack details._

_Apologies, my knowledge on the matter is as low as yours._

Nastasia mentally rolled her eyes. _K', but I know nothing._

Bleck's sheepish smile brushed her mind. _Exactly._

_Oh..._

Among the warmness that had developed between their link it suddenly waned somewhat. This did not go unnoticed by the female, a female who instinctively braced herself when utter seriousness and concern swept over her in waves from the Count. She found it strange how unpredictable he was at present...

And then she felt it.

Her mind mentally froze at detecting a subtle, yet constant, thrum of pain from the Count's end, as if he was trying to bottle up agony from an injury. It was then realization struck her like a pile of bricks and if she could she would have swallowed.

_Count...Dimentio hurt you...didn't he?_

_Hold on for me, alright. Just the fact that our mind link is still open is enough to comfort me a little. Promise me something, Nastasia..._

A small spike of dread passed over their link from her end—why had he ignored her? She sent a wave of worry as she said, _Anything, Count._

_Promise me that when I call for you, you will always answer._

_Umm, yeah, I will. But you've shown me nothing of the others? Where's Mimi? O' Chunks?_

_Do not concern yourself with that right now; you have enough to worry about. Count Bleck is taking care of it so do not worry. Try to rest your mind, my dear._

His last words passed through the link before the Count gently put up a mental block to cut it off for now. Or was he just politely cutting off her objections and questions? With his mind surreally empty without Nastasia present, Bleck hissed a curse through gritted at not being able to distract himself from the pain anymore. Gripping his shoulder that still released worrying wisps of black smoke every now and then, he collapsed to the bed with his head resting against his other arm.

After everything he had been through, Count Blumiere Bleck willing slipped into sleep, exhausted, troubled, grieved. He drifted off to the swirling worries of Timpani, Mimi, and the haunting Dimentio in mind.


	3. Why Do You Push Me Away?

Why Do You Push Me Away?

Early the next morning, Mario's eyes fluttered open against the heaviness of sleep. Grumbles unintentionally left him at the view of his given room that greeted him, a room he had noticed was distastefully similar to every other bedroom in this house: dimly lit, tastelessly bland, grossly dusty, carpet-less and colourless. To Mario who admired a good splash of colour to gaze upon in the mornings this area was utterly boring and unnerving to stay within.

Yet as he laid there staring at the ceiling he found his thoughts trailing else where other than the decor. Eyes narrowed into a glare at the ceiling as thoughts of the Count and his minions started to take over, and deep down he was frustrated beyond belief that these people came to his mind first rather than his own team. It...distressed him somewhat.

However, when his team did come to mind, all he was rewarded with was a sickening sense of concern. It was so overwhelming to the point it nearly made him sick as it tugged at his gut.

Sitting up quietly in his bed with the blanket draping lazily over his knees, his eyes gained a contemplative cloudy hue in the dimly lit room. There was more than these missing people clawing at his conscious. There was also an unexplainable dread inwardly tearing at him. Why, he could not decipher. Something just felt...severely out of place somehow.

"Hey, where are ya going?" A male voice called from outside the house.

"Nowhere, I just need some fresh air. Do not concern yourself." Yet another male answered, obviously brushing the other's question off.

Mario sharply looked to the window when the muffled voices resounded. A curious eyebrow slowly rose at the uncertain silence that followed. Those voices...they had sounded like Thomas and Count Bleck's. He frowned as he ran a hand through his brown locks, grabbed his hat hanging on the bed post, hastily slipped his shoes on, and went to peer out the filthy glass panes to find what the problem was. Maybe it would help distract his thoughts for now? Anything. Absolutely anything would be helpful really than staying cooped up in here where he was internally forced into his thoughts.

However, nothing unusual could be seen beyond the window but flowery fields, his room being awkwardly on the wrong side of the house to see anything, _anyone_. For some reason, Mario found this to be disconcerting...something was wrong about this land. A sigh escaped him as his forehead gently connected with the cold glass. Yes, something was just not right; he could feel it in the core of his heart. But he just could not put his finger on it. So he swiftly turned on his heel at deciding to venture outdoors and see for himself what was happening—to see Count Bleck—anything for a distraction.

No matter how frantic Mario was to find the others, he acknowledged that there were no clues. For now he just had to wait for what came his way...at least until he knew exactly what was going on.

Mario exited his given bedroom and gently shut the door behind him, turning on his heel and briskly heading for the stairs just to his left. His feet softly thudded on steps that occasionally creaked in protest in the silence as he crept down the stairs. As he drew nearer, ever nearer to the bottom, he heard the telltale clangs of Thomas making breakfast in the kitchen. Ignoring this he just opened the front door and snuck out.

**XXXX**

As the sun began to rise once again for the morning it was welcomed by the many melodies of the birds. They beautifully sang their song ever so perfectly to the dawn; nature's soothing sympathy to a certain person's pain...and Mario acknowledged exactly who that was. The white cheery blossoms calmly fluttered as the early dew gave the flowery fields a sense of tranquillity in the sunlight that made it glitter and gleam like diamonds of nature.

Only one thing disturbed the clear sky, its small form soaring through the blue. It was a single raven curiously circling the fields.

The sun warmly bathed the countryside, its casting glow illuminating the many flowers that covered every inch of these unfamiliar fields. Pastel pink petals swayed gently in the breeze that rolled over the hills, a breeze that was crisp, that was fresh, that had a delicate hint of frostiness to it. Was it truly nature's icy breeze, or a Count's damaged pride flowing over him? Mario breathed it in with a sinking heart at spotting a narrow trail in the pink flowers that littered the ground—where Bleck had previously walked.

Mario sighed and frowned before he also trudged through this etched path in pursuit. He traced it with his eyes to where it travelled steeply up the hill and beyond his line of vision, over its rim and beyond, far from his sight and far from him. Eyes narrowed at how it seemed the Count had a particular location in mind since trail never deterred from heading straight up. Not even thinking on it further, he began to travel that same path.

He climbed and climbed, the sudden icy wind blasting him painfully as it felt like freezing needles piercing his skin. It blew viciously down from beyond the hill, a foreboding wind that was trying to push him away. Mario rose a hand over his face with a grunt...no longer doubting that this was Bleck's doing.

Being unable to see above the hillside from his height however was proving to make the task of finding him more difficult. Despite his shortness, he did manage to spot the white canopy of a single blossom tree that grew over the highest point. Gaining distance from the house and drawing nearer to the top caused his heart to skip a beat. The unmistakable silhouette of a white _hat_ beside the tree alerted him.

How the Count had known he was close was beyond him, because when he drew close enough another gusty gale hit him square in the face—wanting him to keep his distance. But in forcing himself through its power, he found that it was, indeed, Count Bleck's slender form leant against the trunk of the cherry blossom tree. There he lay with the pearly petals bathing him from the blossom flowers above. Mario halted a few feet away to stare for a moment, making Count Bleck sigh and elegantly pull up one leg to rest over the other. Irritation practically seethed from his expression.

"Can you not take a hint, _hero_," Bleck's tone was dark and mocking as usual, falsely dangerous yet calm. It was merely a mask of danger over his tone in an attempt to push the annoying other way. "Count Bleck will not hesitate to blow you off this hill."

Count Bleck raised an eyebrow when Mario merely rolled his eyes with a sad frown rather than a snarl. Expect the unexpected they say.

Unnoticed by the two, the hovering raven that had been circling them like a vulture to prey soared down to perch upon a branch high above the Count's head. Black beady eyes watched the scene in peculiar interest. Being unseen by the two it merely cocked its feathered head in curiosity.

"Why bother pushing me away, I'm not going back? Besides, I'd just climb back up again," Mario replied. Nothing answered him. Nothing except the peaceful rustling of the leaves Mario closed his eyes, one hand resting against his hip. "You wouldn't do it anyway."

Count Bleck evilly smirked which Mario could not see from his angle. "Do not underestimate Count Bleck, you stubborn fool."

"If you had seriously wanted to, you would've done it by now."

Mario nearly chuckled out loud when Bleck inaudibly cursed under his breath, obviously having no retort. However, the hero reined it in at knowing it was the worst thing to do at this point.

After a moment of silence, of which the Count slowly turned his gaze to meet eye contact with him, he discovered a measure of guardedness present in those pupils. The sun over the horizon shone like fire in his already fiery orange orbs...but the flames were strangely dulled. Mario shivered as it almost felt, quite literally_ felt_, like Bleck had forcibly yanked up barriers around himself...for the man's expression became heart wrenchingly cold.

_Perhaps if I completely ignore him he will leave_, Count Bleck thought, annoyed. No such luck graced him today.

The red clad plumber went to take a step closer. Count Bleck glared venomously up at him, causing him to stop dead in his tracks. The glare in his eyes literally demanded distance. Surrendering, Mario slowly lowered to sit where he was instead. Bleck pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling a migraine coming on.

"Pray tell, why did you follow Count Bleck?" Bleck asked, miserably looking into the rising sun.

Mario steadily stared at the side of his head. "For everything that's happened, I wanted to say sorry for—

"Do not bother," The Count interrupted, eyes to rival fire narrowing at the sun. Suddenly, he unconsciously grabbed his bandaged shoulder when it all of a sudden flared up in brutal pain. The agony was very, _very _distracting. Yet he expertly hid most of his agony from his voice, but slithers still managed to slip through. "I-It does not matter, but if you continue to irritate me I_ will_ blast you into oblivion. Make no mistake."

_Why now? This wound is really getting on my nerves...that damn Dimentio, _Was Bleck's mental hiss.

Unfortunately for Blumiere Bleck, Mario had detected the pained traces in his tone, had caught that near invisible flash of discomfort behind those eyes caged doors. Concern instantly grew present in the hero's expression, which only made more chips fly off of the Count's pride.

When Mario lifted to his knees to attempt to crawl over and examine the injury in concern, Count Bleck merely growled low in his throat—a warning. Mario ignored, breaking personal space, gloved fingers lifting for the still bloodied bandage. For some odd reason...Count Bleck appeared...afraid?

"Do not touch me, ordered Count Bleck," Blumiere snapped, smacking the hand away harshly and fluently standing up with a grace only he could achieve. "Leave me be..." He turned and quickly started back towards the house. He knew peace of mind would not find him here. "Just leave me be..."

Count Bleck could only let out a groan of frustration. The short man had instantly bolted up to his feet to run after him. Every one of Bleck's long strides was two from the other in comparison, but it was not enough to keep the distance he so desired.

"Where are you going?!" Mario growled.

He was thoroughly annoyed by how the Count always behaved towards him. He had not even been with the Count for forty eight hours and he was starting to grate on his patience. All he wanted was to help, was to metaphorically get back up on his feet and find the others, but in order to do that...he knew they needed to be on the same page. But every time he tried to stay on the same page, Count Bleck would forcibly turn it over—indignant and passive.

"Obviously, away from annoying pests. I am going to check on Nastasia," Bleck answered calmly before picking up his pace, but Mario just kept up strangely easily.

Mario's persistence was beginning to get very,_ very_ irritating on a number of levels. At feeling the other male get too close, Bleck glowered and kept his distance, he just didn't like people being too close to him and he never had. His life consisted of keeping everyone out of his life (apart from those important to him) and keeping them away. The annoying hero was no exception. In fact, he was on the top of the list of candidates to repel right now.

"Count?" Mario's tone was odd, curious.

"What?" Bleck snarled.

"Why won't you fly? Or teleport? If you really wanted to get away from me you would."

Those perceptive words made the Count falter in his steps. His eyes widened unknown to the other, and Mario tilted his head to the side in confusion when the man let out a peculiar sound. The sound was quiet and...Embarrassed? Mario could only blink suspiciously at the man when he froze in his tracks among he fields of flowers. He could only watch as the Count seemed to hesitate.

Ever so slowly, Bleck peered over his shoulder at him, a deadly glare in place, as he whispered, "...I can not."

Without even another word and before Mario could even object to his leaving, Count Bleck hastily turned his back on him, leaving no room for conversation, questions or suspicious remarks, his back straight and conserving what dignity remained. No, he just turned his back on him and quickly strode back towards the house to prevent the other bringing it up further. Without his cloak billowing behind him, he appeared more human than ever as he coldly walked away...and a human heart was controlled by emotions.

And when this thought wandered through the hero's mind, he detected a yanking chain of guilt on his own heart: holding true, squeezing, never easing. Turning blue, chilling, never warming.

Mario decided to give the Count some space. So he waited there a minute or two, collecting his disorganised mind, just standing there staring on, before also approaching the house with hunched shoulders. A niggling aggravation was tearing away at his conscious as he headed down through the flowers towards the door, and it wasn't the golden pollen that flew in protest around him at their flowers being disturbed once more. It was something far more intricate...

_But why? Why can't you do it? _Came his blurring thoughts, a mere one out of the hundreds that flew like a rampaging tornado through his brain. _Why do you push me away, Count Blumiere Bleck?_

Unbeknownst to Mario, the raven silently took flight in a flurry of black feathers. A single black feather drifted slowly to the ground.


	4. The Truth Part 1

The Truth Part 1

The mysterious house was quiet, too quiet. Mario walked down the halls of the ancient house in a state of deep thought, the stressed lines on his face displaying it for all to see if anyone was even present. Peach, his closest friend, Bowser, his enemy yet strong ally, Luigi, his beloved brother...where had they vanished to? If so were they even alive? On top of that, Tippi and Mimi had puzzlingly vanished without a trace. He would not admit it out loud, but he was worried for them—_all _of them.

He previously just gone to check on Nastasia and had stood there shocked in the doorway at discovering the Count fast asleep, his back arched over Nastasia's bed with his head softly laying on top of her lap. Mario's eyebrows had furrowed at the sight of Bleck's eyes under those eyelids moving wildly in dreams, or more likely a nightmare. Unexpectedly, he had felt a horrid pang in his heart as the man had groaned as if in pain and turned his head away. In drawing nearer to quickly check on them both, Mario had raised an eyebrow at discovering the two's hands were laced together...a friendly gesture from the Count to his unconscious minion. In giving the two a small smile, he had left them in peace and had gently shut the door without a word. He hoped he had not disturbed the Count.

And now, as the red clad hero travelled further away from their room, he just could not shake the image of the two out of his head no matter how hard he tried. He slowed in his tracks with an exhale and closed his tired eyes, looking to be at a total loss. The thought of how ridiculous he looked just standing there annoyed him ever so slightly. But in all honesty, he had no idea why the Count and his minions concerned him so much. They had tried to destroy the universe for Overthere's sake! He loudly groaned whilst shaking his head, confused.

_A hero complex is a deadly thing,_ Mario thought irritably. That was the only conclusion he could conjure at this point. _What else would it be?_

"What are you doing here?"

Mario jumped with wide eyes, although he would never admit it. With a gasp he briskly swung around. As soon as he saw who it was, her opal eyes freezing him to the core, his face instantly dropped. White met blue—suspicion met caution. Nothing happened in that moment that Phoebe glared at him like a heartless ghost. He swallowed at discovering his throat strangely tight.

"O-Oh, you must be Phoebe? Nice to meet a-you," Mario cleared his throat before hesitantly offering a hand in a polite gesture. An awkward moment passed when Phoebe eerily glanced down to his hand...as if she could actually see it. It was undoubtedly unnerving in so many ways. Mario hastily retracted his hand and added with a touch of guilt. "Sorry, I forgot—"

"Please come with me now, there is something me and Thomas have to talk to you about. I have no doubt it will be...highly disturbing to you," Phoebe said, Mario's heart pounding at how the air around the corridor all of a sudden fell cold at her words. He shivered.

Dust amongst the floor seemed to cower from her steps with silent cries as Phoebe walked straight passed him. Mario watched the dust scurry away as if a group of mice fearfully cowering from a cat that could strike at any moment. It was almost as if a hidden draft was curling the dust away from her every footfall and he would have no choice but to inwardly admit that he felt more than a little frightened of the Toadette a metre away. The coldness refused to cease as he followed behind with a cautioned heart. If anything, the chill seemed to grow.

Deep down, he was debating if it was indeed Phoebe causing this, or something else entirely. For in his every muscle there was a strange tension building. So many questions flew through his mind: what was it that they wanted to say? Was it about Mimi and Tippi? Had they been lying to him, to them?

_How can she see where she's going_? Mario mentally added to the list when Phoebe surprisingly turned a corner without hesitation. However, he narrowed his eyes at her back at knowing the other questions were more pressed for answers.

The corridor was eerily dark and Mario nearly froze at noticing something peculiar: there were no windows. He hastily glanced around, there were no windows, nor were there doors, just a gnawing darkness. All light seemed to be sucked away except for the candles lining the walls, each adjacent candle dripping molten wax—almost as if pearly tears of grief.

Minutes ticked by as the Toad and Hero silently treaded down the hallways, but to Mario it felt as if time had slowed. Not a single word passed between them in the long minutes, which honestly made him tenser the more they walked on. Sometimes a rat would scurry away from him in the shadows. Faint candle light cast a glow, reflected in his uneasy eyes. Every step made his heart race, too loud, too sudden, and too much closer to where they were going. Each step echoed down the dark corridors as the candle embers flickered. His heart thundered in his chest. Sickness brewed in his stomach.

Mario was just about to question Phoebe about where they were going, as their path was seemingly aimless, when his words abruptly caught in his throat. Words escaped him in a moment of weakness as she chillingly turned her head, glaring at him in the corner of her eye as if she had known he was about to state something. Her eyes glinted with what Mario could only assume was distrust.

Silently, he closed his mouth on instinct. Something about Phoebe put him further on edge. Why, did it feel...

Like something was terribly wrong.

There was a door coming into view straight ahead. Mario squinted at barely noticing its outline in the deep shadows, his suspicion getting stronger. Suspicious eyes noted it was a dead end, nowhere to go, nowhere to turn, just this one door. He unsurely looked to phoebe. She no longer spared him a second glance.

Mario frowned, there was a strange weight on his stomach, and the further he followed Phoebe, the heavier it got. Like someone was clutching his stomach and squeezing—hard. Something felt wrong, so very wrong. Mario began to sweat, half expecting to hear a terrifying scream any second now.

They reached the daunting door all too soon. Phoebe suddenly stopped before it, cold eyes never leaving him as she stood aside for him to enter, and only when silence choked them once more did Mario find he missed the footsteps that had blocked out that other suspenseful sound: that sound of his own pounding heart.

"In. Now," Phoebe demanded, a dangerous edge to her voice. "We have not got all day as you stand there like an idiot, we have to move soon."

"Move?" Mario inquired, gloved hand frozen upon the handle. He turned his gaze to her ghostly eyes with an uncertainty she could not see. "Move where?"

"In now, questions later," Phoebe replied icily.

Mario flinched as if the words had physically stabbed him like a knife. He was severely taken aback by the unrelenting harshness of her tone. He sighed, why did it seem like everyone hated him at the moment? Well, except for Thomas of course.

Deciding it was best to just obey, he pushed down the handle and—

"HOLY GRAMBI TAKING A SHIT! You scared the living daylights out of me!" Thomas suddenly yelled when the door burst open just as he was passing it within the small room.

"Forgive him, he has Moronitis," Phoebe droned with a roll of her eyes. "Had it from birth."

"Now Cous." Out of habit he plucked another piece of golden grass from where a small pot of it grew on the windowsill. He had a frown rather than his normally seen smirk on his face as he placed the stem in-between his lips, unnervingly serious as he stared out of the window. He glared out at the countryside beyond the pane, at the ever so calm and beautiful countryside. Emerald eyes narrowed as he muttered, barely above a whisper, "These dark times do not need ya darkening them further."

Mario distinctly wondered in the back of his mind what species of grass Thomas constantly chewed was. He mentally sweat dropped as the thought of it being some sort of drug crossed his mind, and he found it utterly plausible. Swiftly pushing this to the back of his mind, he turned stern eyes to Thomas now sitting by the window. A determination glinted in his eyes as he took an offensive step closer to him. Thomas merely switched his gaze to him in the corner of his eye, unfazed.

"Thomas, I want answers. Where are we? What's a-going on? What're you hiding?" Mario accused. His eyes were ablaze with the desire for answers as he pointed at the Toad.

"As much as it annoys me to agree with him, I wonder the same."

Everyone jerked their gazes towards the door at the new voice. Mario only glared at the man when the Count strode in, Bleck's posture straight and elegant as always. God, how much grief he must be going through right now was beyond Mario, but the Hero just snorted and looked back to Thomas without a second thought.

Count Bleck glowered at Mario and also snorted in annoyance. Anyone that could see these two would swear they saw hateful lightning slash between them.

In-between it all, Phoebe raised an eyebrow at sensing sparks take flight.

Thomas merely shut his eyes with a sigh whilst suddenly looking much older.

Only then did Mario's fire dampen with a faltering stance. How could he have not seen them before: those dark rings lining the Toads eyes with exhaustion? Despite his eccentric personality...Mario began to wonder if Thomas had been through more than he let on.

"These are dark times," Phoebe began. Both the Count and Mario secretly stiffened, a horrible chill wracking their spines at her tone...a signal of pure dread to come. Her hollow eyes bore nothing if not heartlessness as she directed her mocking words right at the Hero. "Where are you indeed? What is going on I wonder? What are we hiding...? Why ourselves of course." A hiss of distaste, a snarl of pure loathing. "And whose fault is that, I wonder?"

Thomas sent a frustrated groan Phoebe's way.

Count Bleck's expression showed only confusion, blinking.

Within the confines of his gut, Mario began to feel sick as a coil began to tighten there, the coil twisting and churning his insides like a warped snake. Something was wrong, just _wrong!_ A shuddering breath left his lips whilst he readjusted his hat to distract himself from her hell-freezing gaze. He could feel her blind eyes lock on him like a gun.

She took a threatening step towards him. "_Where _is not the question you are looking for." Another step. Mario gulped, taking one back. Her tone was furious—frightening, "The question you are looking for..." She trailed off, hate fuming in her pupils. Another step forward. He took a step back. Mario's breath caught when his back hit the wall—cornered. Phoebe was now face to face with him. Her whisper clawed at him with disgust, "...is _when."_

"W-When?" Mario asked, thoroughly confused. "What do you mean?"

Thomas suddenly stood up and approached the bookcase beside Count Bleck. Blumiere watched him with interest as the Indigo spotted Toad browsed over the covers with a finger. Every book looked ancient to the Count.

The Toad made a small muffled 'aha' through his grass stem and grabbed a certain tome. Count Bleck just managed to glimpse the title as the Toad spun around to walk towards Mario. He cocked his head to the side, _'History'...?_

Mario stared at the brown covered book, its anciently yellow pages, its horridly torn cover tainted with black smudges. Thomas appeared to chew his stem nervously as he offered it over.

All was deadly silent when Mario took that ancient-looking book. He seemed uncertain, as if opening it up would unleash some sort of evil. And deep down, inside of himself, he felt that coil scream in forewarning.

"Go on, open it mate," Thomas encouraged gently. There was a look in his eyes Mario could not explain.

Ever so slowly, the Hero hesitantly opened the book with worry weighing down his heart. The first thing that struck his sight nearly made him drop the book in utter shock.

"That's a-me!" He exclaimed.

The Count decided to grace Mario with his presence, even though he really did not want to, but he was just too curious. Mario? In history? What was he, the stubbiest hero to walk this Dimension? Trying to withhold his disrespectfulness and failing as he was smirking, he strode up to the plumber with completely silent steps. No one heard him, not even Phoebe. Count Bleck did pride himself in stealth.

But as soon as he saw the next page that Mario turned...that stealth failed him. The Count choked on his own air, eyes wide, his monocle nearly falling from his right eye. Amber eyes were horror stricken at what he saw upon the page.

He saw _himself._

"Apologies, but what is this?" Bleck croaked, forcing himself to look closer.

"History," Phoebe droned. She could not see the page so she did not understand his shock. "The beginning being when Princess Peach, Bowser, and the hero vanished without a trace."

"Beginning?!" Mario gasped.

With renowned vigour he suddenly flicked through the book. Page after page, decade after decade, all a brownish blur of inky images. Mario felt his heart quicken. Dates rolled by like the wind. The pages whizzed. Images gained red, grew terrifying. The crimson grew—the blood!

Then the final page turned, ever so slowly, a very quiet crumple as it swung on its bind. And when that final page revealed itself, Mario stutteringly gasped. The ancient book slipped from his fingers, its resounding bang unheard in his ears as it crashed to the floor. There was a petrified glaze to his eyes as he stared down in despair at the open book...at the present date.

Thomas put a hand on his shoulder. "That's right, Mario. This is the Mushroom Kingdom, your home...five hundred years later."


	5. On The Run

On The Run

"Five hundred years!" Mario yelled. Bewilderment was evident in his tone, but the Count merely looked away and sighed.

"Count Bleck understood that different dimensions had different time spans, but did not realise it could be this drastic," Count Bleck thought aloud, tapping a white gloved finger to his chin. Mario looked to him with wide eyes and for once the Count did not glare back. "It seems that every day you spent in Flipside was at _least a _decade in this world."

"Yes, five hundred years. Five hundred years of murder, war, blood and pain. With no princess, order was lost. With no Bowser, other darker beings gained confidence and emerged. Five hundred years of what we all call 'The Age of Darkness.' And a hero, of which we all prayed for, Never came! With no _hero_...our kingdom was lost," Phoebe hissed into the suspense. Such powerful words, such powerful disgust, all aimed at Mario.

Cold tendrils were yanking at Mario's heart and he felt he could scarcely breathe. He agonisingly slowly met eyes with Phoebe, those blind eyes filled with such hate and distrust. A wave of guilt more overwhelming than anything he had ever experienced hit him. They had waited for him, called for him, prayed for him to save them, and where was he? To them he had just vanished without a trace...as if he had fled. To say the hero was sick with guilt was an understatement.

He was mortified.

"Alright." Mario forced himself to remain calm. He took a deep breath and shot his eyes to Thomas with the fires of determination exploding in his pupils. "I've not been here when you've wanted me, answered you when you've called me, or fought when you've needed me—"

"Urgh, apologies...I am allergic to corny dramatic speech," Bleck sarcastically drawled in his silky tone as he moved away from Mario to take up his corner standing beside the book case again. Although his words were harsh, Mario noticed how his eyes were actually deep in thought.

Mario bowed his head in shame. His next words rang strong and true, "...But I'm here _now._"

"The Moronitis seems to be spreading," Phoebe spat, pearly eyes glinting with fury.

Mario clenched his fists at feeling a bubble of rage building at how it seemed everyone was ganging up on him, all except Thomas. Thomas saw the pure remorse, guilt and shame in the hero's eyes.

The Count leant against his chosen wall with a sigh. From crossing his white clad arms he gave a tiny grimace of soreness from his shoulder. His words were quiet, yet its strength drew everyone's attention in the room, "The past is the past, it cannot be changed. But the future can as long as you are willing to, prophesized Count Bleck."

"Now who's making corny dramatic speeches," Mario remarked with a smirk. Bleck's responsive glare was hot enough to burn his insides.

Bleck droned a meaningless retort, "Count Bleck will not regret hurting you."

All of a sudden, the room darkened. All gazes except Phoebe's whipped to the window. Count Bleck scowled suspiciously as the clear sky outside abruptly filled with storm clouds, all whooshing by as if the sky had become a smoky ocean of black and grey. There was a sense of static in the air that sent shivers of discomfort into their minds. Whatever this was...it was unnatural.

Suddenly there was an alerting bang on the front door of the house. Every single person in the room froze and tensed. Both Mario and Bleck watched as Thomas crept towards the window, his emerald eyes dark with fear.

"We've gotta move!" Thomas suddenly burst out in alarm. "_He's_ here! We should've been gone ages ago!"

Phoebe's eyes hardened further if it was even possible. "There is no time to explain. Grab Nastasia from her room, we need to take the secret passage out of here."

"No!" Count Bleck shouted. "She should not be moved."

"Hey it's either grab her alive now or grab her dead later, Bat Boy!" Thomas roared as, with surprising force, he yanked on Mario's and Phoebe's arms together. Both yelped as they were dragged out of the door by the Toad. "Hurry, I can hear them breaking through the door downstairs."

"'Bat Boy'?" Count Bleck repeated hotly. However, Thomas had already gone.

His head shot up in alarm as he heard the door downstairs be bashed down. The mighty thud it made vibrated through his feet—warning him. With a silent curse under his breath, Count Bleck bolted out of the door and ran for all he was worth to Nastasia's room.

_Nastasia!_ He urgently called to her. He hoped beyond all odds he was not out of her range.

_C-Count, I can sense your distress. Umm, are you K'? _

Count Bleck felt relief wash over him; however it was short lived when he heard what sounded like hundreds of feet thundering downstairs. There were voices shouting in rage to one another, and he only caught snippets as he rushed into Nastasia's room.

"His highness wants him alive! Kill the spares! FIND THEM!—"

Count Bleck shut the door quickly, swiftly blocking out anything else. He could already hear them, hear them racing up the stairs.

_No time for a pleasant chat, my dear. We are on the move!_ Bleck assured her hastily, before all of sudden grabbing her from the bed. He held her small frame bridle style as he frantically looked about the room—the Toad had not told him where to go damn it!

"Psst! Down 'ere!"

Blumiere sharply spun around despite the pain in his shoulder. He spotted Thomas beckoning to him beneath the table. The Toad had removed the floorboards to where his head popped out of a secret passage. Count Bleck wasted no time as he ran over.

"In here, I hear something in here!" A male cried out from outside the door.

Clutching Nastasia tightly, Bleck hurriedly tried slipping down into the hole. But the hole was too small for him and Nastasia together.

At least twenty pairs of feet bounded towards the door—about to ambush them.

"Hurry, Bat Boy!"

"I swear if you call me that again I will blast you into the void!" Count growled through gritted teeth. He tried a different angle—that didn't work either. This was not going to work.

The handle to the door suddenly shot downwards. Count Bleck shot his hand behind him to point at the door, amber eyes flashing red. A bolt of energy shot from his fingers. It hit the handle just before it was fully down. There was a fizz of sparks. A resounding click of a lock that had not been there before resounded. The handle furiously shook, but nothing happened. It was locked.

"OPEN THIS DOOR!"

"Take her—gently—gently!" Bleck hissed when Thomas rapidly grabbed Nastasia from the caring embrace of his arms.

_Count, what's going on? I know something's wrong!_

_Nothing, my dear. Nothing at all,_ Blumiere chimed over their mind link, a little_ too_ sweetly. He motioned for Thomas to hurry with a flick of his wrist. Staying unnaturally calm, he glanced to the door. He quickly wished he hadn't when a few axe ends suddenly started bashing through the wood.

_You always were a bad liar,_ Nastasia stated. Little did she know that Thomas had safely scurried her away into the darkness.

_Indeed, it is a character flaw of mine,_ Count Bleck admitted with a forced mental chuckle. On the other side of his mind, where he hid his turmoil, it was screaming for them to hurry.

"Ready, get down here," Thomas called, making Blumiere raise an eyebrow at how far away it sounded. Just how far down did this go?

"Bash down the door on three, men! One!—

There was no time for thinking on the run as Bleck turned to get down the hole. The whole time he could hear Thomas', Mario's and Phoebe's desperate pleas to hurry.

"—Two!—"

Briskly managing to slide through the hole, he was about to descend the ladder, but then he saw the loose floorboards that needed replacing. He reached out for them, fingers brushing them—

"—THREE!"

The door to the room was smashed open by a flurry of axes, splinters flew, wood exploded. A metal handle twanged as it collided with the floor from the massacre, thudding a couple of times before it came to stop by the empty bed.

Twenty strange figures cloaked in black blundered in with cloaks billowing like dark wings behind them. Every covered face bore a helmet of cold steel, all pointy like beaks of a raven where noses obviously hid beneath. Leather boots caked in murderous dry blood halted in their tracks. All was confused, for the room was quiet and empty except for the shuffling of their mysterious feet.

"Where'd they go, I could have sworn they were in here?" One questioned, agitated.

Not even moments after all the soldiers had scurried inside, did everything come to a horrifying stop. All of sudden, among the crowd of raven-like beings, a burst of powerful and shadowy flames erupted. Those curling shadows swayed hauntingly, illuminating the room in the terrifying black of unknown. Room temperature instantly dropped with an icy dread for whatever was beginning to emerge in all its blackness from the shadows. That smell, that heavy, stomach churning smell...

That scent of pure death and darkness, so chilling, so sickening, so cruel.

All soldiers cowered away like demons to the light, movements hunched and skittish like nimble beasts beneath a human disguise. Deadly silence was all that rang like a deafening warning bell in their ears as they cowered inhumanly low to the ground.

Shadows began to take shape in the middle of the room, twisting and turning, curling and crawling, forming the shape of a figure that eerily rose from the floor. The air around it was stiflingly powerful as it felt as if it choked the soldiers with magical talons.

The figure stood immensely out from the crowd as their hugely tall form over towered them all. Shadows dissipated, allowing the room to finally breathe as the new comer stood in all their glory. From the tall broadness and atmosphere about the stranger, it was obviously he was male. Unlike the ordinary black cloaks of the others, he wore a cloak rimmed with swirls of silver, its button a brooch of the finest ruby cut into the shape of an raven, the outstretched wings glinting like crimson blood in the light streaming from the window. Unlike the others whose masks of steel were merely pointed like a raven's beak...this one's mask had raven wings that protruded from the sides—intimidating. This entity's appearance literally screamed high status.

"Where...is...he?" The stranger's low, mighty voice reverberated through the tension. It was velvety to hear, yet deadly to the heart. So cold were his pauses that it threatened to freeze their souls.

"C-Captain?" One extremely brave soldier stuttered as he stepped forth. All the others breath caught in fear at his boldness. No one, _no_ one dared to speak to their frightening Captain unless spoken to. "T-They are not here, s-sir."

**Only one thing disturbed the clear sky, its small form soaring through the blue. It was a single raven curiously circling the fields.**

"They are." All of a sudden there was a loud caw. Suddenly, a single raven flew like an arrow through the door-less doorframe. Everyone ducked in fright as it flew over their heads. Something dropped to the floor from its talons. The bird landed loyally on the shoulder of their captain, eyeing them with curious beady eyes, cocking it's head to the side in interest. It then looked to its master as if awaiting orders. The Captain turned his head chillingly slowly to his bird, voice icy cold, "Our mascot has seen him...he is here in this house."

**Count Bleck raised an eyebrow when Mario merely rolled his eyes with a sad frown rather than a snarl. Expect the unexpected they say.**

**Unnoticed by the two, the hovering raven that had been circling them like a vulture to prey soared down to perch upon a branch high above the Count's head. Black beady eyes watched the scene in peculiar interest. Being unseen by the two it merely cocked its feathered head in curiosity. **

He then bent down to pick up the large piece of white material; its underside covered in stars, which his bird had earlier dropped to the floor —the Count's cape—proving they had been here.

**Unbeknownst to Mario, the raven silently took flight in a flurry of black feathers. A single black feather drifted slowly to the ground. **

The Captain's golden eyes glinted through the raven mask holes. "No worries," He evilly stroked the raven's head which happily nuzzled his fingers in return of his touch. "Keep searching, men," He hauntingly turned his gaze to them, voice holding an undertone of frosty warning, "His highness wants him in his grasp as soon as possible...find _him._"

XXXX

Retreating footsteps echoed faintly above, a blessing to the five hiding within the darkness below the house. No one dared to move, nor dared to breathe when some lingering footfalls remained reluctant to leave the room. Only when all sound vanished from above, when all had fallen quiet, did they all release the breath they had been holding.

"Boo's on ice that was close," Thomas gasped, before suddenly sniggering much to the confusion of the others. "Mmmm...I could do with some booze right now."

"Thomas!" Mario and Phoebe both groaned in disbelief, the Count just shook his head disbelievingly. You physically heard the sound of Mario palm smacking his forehead echoing throughout the pitch black cavern.

"Holy Canaloni, just what has happened to this kingdom?" Mario muttered into the darkness. None could see him, or even each other.

Much to everyone's surprise, Count Bleck suddenly ignited a beautifully burning orb of blue fire in his palm. Being the tallest out of all of them by far made it easier for the light to reveal everyone that was present. Everyone's eyes, except Phoebe's and Nastasia's, sharply blinked as they attempted to adjust to the bright light.

"Ah jeez! Ya could've at least warned me before you burned my fricken' eyes out!" Thomas moaned. He leant against the wall, rubbing his poor eyes.

"Ahaha, now you know how a-Phoebe fee-OW!"

Mario broke off as he was slapped relatively hard on the shoulder by Phoebe to his right. How she possessed such accuracy when she could not see was beyond the wise Count, who raised an eyebrow at it.

"..." Bleck refused to answer as he maturely fought to contain his laughter like the gentleman he was. Coolly clearing his throat, he motioned to the dark cavern with an elegant flick of his wrist. "Shall we, Miss Phoebe, Mr Thomas? I do not find it appealing staying here, we are too close to the entrance."

"Close? We're bloody at it!" Thomas trailed off into inaudible grumbles of complaint. Phoebe rolled her eyes to the ceiling at him, action clearly saying: 'why am I related to you?'

In full-hearted agreement, Mario slightly nodded to the Count. The Count responded with a glare as Phoebe's blind form passed between them and into the surrounding darkness. She was followed shortly by Thomas struggling to hold Nastasia.

In a heartbeat, the Count gracefully swept Nastasia out of the Toad's arms and into his willing own, the fluent action smooth, gentle, effortless to all that could see. Or at least, it would have appeared effortless if Mario had not detected that grimace of pain from his injured shoulder that was obviously screaming in protest. With one of his hands carefully holding the flame and the opposite arm cradling Nastasia with care, the Count wordlessly began travelling down the passage to follow the Toads. When no sound of footsteps followed behind, he spared a glance over his shoulder with glowing eyes.

"Coming, _hero?_" Bleck taunted, a cunning smirk in place.

After what Mario had learnt today that nickname burned an even deeper hole into his gut of guilt.

Mario growled irritably, almost feral to the Count's ears, and swiftly marched by with a scowl of distain. He did not miss the equally disdainful snort as the Count followed behind him, guiding the group's way from behind with his ethereal ember's glow.

Just as everyone started travelling ahead into the unknown, the Count paused and hesitantly glanced back to the entrance they had come through for a moment. As he forced his gaze away to continue lighting the passage for everyone, Phoebe's daunting words pulsed throughout his mind.

**Where are you indeed? What is going on I wonder? What are we hiding...**

_**Why ourselves of course.**_


	6. The Truth Part 2

The Truth part 2

The four warily travelled through the underground tunnels consumed by darkness, every step echoing with the splashes of puddles that broke beneath their feet. Ripples spread on their surface in the light of the Count's blue flame as they pressed ever further into the unknown. Or at least...it was unknown to both Mario and Blumiere. Damp stone, that was all that could be smelt—almost overwhelming. Jagged rocks squeezing the narrow passageways were at every turn. Coldness. Coldness lingered upon alert skin while they carefully trudged onward. Drip, drip, drip, came the eerie water droplets that fell from the ceiling. Occasionally, a loud step would cause soil to alarmingly trickle from above, forcing them to freeze in alarm. This place was a field mine waiting, waiting, waiting to be set off. Wherever they were in the underground depths...it was obviously centuries old.

They had gained some distance from whence they had come, yet all it rewarded them with were the tunnels growing narrower and narrower, freezing pools about their feet getting deeper and deeper. Mario mentally thought that they had at least travelled a mile away from where the house had once rested above them. In turn he assumed it was safe to strike conversation now—to get more answers.

"Thomas, where exactly are a-we?" Mario asked, the Count behind him rolled his eyes unbeknownst to him.

"Underground, idiot," Bleck droned with sarcasm.

"I wasn't asking you, _Count_," Mario growled.

He spun around for a brief moment to glare with eyes as hot as flames. The Count merely glared back, unaffected. Mario sighed before turning to continue his way behind the Toads.

Thomas glanced over his shoulder to the two as he whispered, "As we already told ya, these are dark times. We'll tell ya more once we reach a Break Point. We'll tell ya more about what's going on...and us."

Mario knew in a disappointing instant that that was all he was going to be given at present.

Minutes ticked by in choking silence whilst they continued on through rocky tunnels, and Mario found with much annoyance that his only source of comfort was in fact the Count's pale flame lighting his way from behind him. He carefully trudged onward with an expression of disgust and shivered as his feet suddenly sank in icy water that rose up to his knees. What exactly was going on here? Who were those people back at the house? All sorts of questions flew through his nervous mind as he pushed on through deepening waters.

Tunnels tightened its grasp even further. They were so tight, so rough as they scratched Mario's face. He could barely move in these thin tunnels let alone breathe. How could nobody else be affected? It made no sense. He would be lying if he openly stated that these passages were not causing his heart to race in a claustrophobic dread. A wet gloved hand would grip the rocky wall like a death-grip when he forced himself further down the throat of these caves.

Behind the Hero, Count Bleck raised a curious eyebrow at how the smaller man's breathing had become irregular, at how his aura was literally fluctuating, at how that aura which was normally blue with calmness was strangely violet. Fear, he could sense his fear. Deep down, the Count tried to figure out what was causing it, and a frown crosses his face. Although, despite being able to see that aura as clear as day, the Hero was carrying on as if nothing was wrong.

"Hero, are you alright?" The Count muttered so only Mario could hear; for once not mockingly stressing the nickname he had given him. He blinked when the smoky aura flashed red in anger for a moment, before suddenly turning a deep hue of pink: embarrassed. An expression of confusion crossed his face as he pointedly added, "You seem tense."

"Fine, never better," Mario replied, short and blunt. And yet...

Count Bleck frowned. Did he only imagine the hint of uneasiness that Mario tried to hide? Shrugging, the Count decided he did not really care, for the Hero was none of his concern really.

"But," Thomas suddenly interrupted everything, not hearing the exchange between Mario and Blumiere behind him. He cautiously leapt onto a boulder that was in the watery pathway. He turned to face them, blue flames reflecting off of positive eyes. He smirked as he continued, "I'll tell ya this if it eases ya two: we'll be using the tunnels to get to Rougeport outside of the Mushroom Kingdom. The gossip there is like no other and spreads far and wide across all surrounding Kingdoms. It can be a goldmine of knowledge, or a garbage can of lies. If ya wanna get info for your missing friends, I've got no doubt you'll find out about them there. And by what I gather from your descriptions, these missing characters are quite hard to miss."

"Indeed, Count Bleck approves," Count Bleck stated. There was a slightly hopeful edge to his voice, which made Mario give an unseen small smile.

_Indeed, Mimi's green skin is impossible to mistake, and a pixel butterfly would stand out like a sore thumb in this dimension. Hopefully, luck will be on Count Bleck's side. Oh Mimi, Timpani, I pray you two are safe._

_Count? _Nastasia's mental voice all of sudden rang. Count Bleck physically jumped, which was luckily unnoticed by the others.

_Nastasia? Count Bleck thought you were asleep,_ The Count answered by thought alone, stroking her mind gently with his own to pass over a soothing wave of friendliness and concern. However, a wave of guilt he tried to rein in also managed to escape through. _Count Bleck hopes he did not disturb you—are my thoughts too loud?_

_Umm, yeah, quite a bit. You think too much, Count. So, when were you planning on telling me about Mimi being missing?_

_Apologies, my dear, _Count Bleck literally felt Nastasia's mental eyebrow rise, for was his apology from thinking too loud or from hiding things from her? _Count Bleck shall try to think more quietly from here on out._

At his nonchalance to her question, Nastasia had finally had enough of being left in the dark.

Count Blumiere Bleck suddenly stumbled and nearly fell over with a gasp. His breath caught. His heart began to thunder in his chest. The flame flared, nearly flickering out from his shock. The grip on Nastasia unintentionally tightened. What in Grambi's name was that?!

For there, in the confines of his brain...he felt his heart drop at something pushing through his mind's veil.

_N-Nastasia! Are-are you mind reading me_?! Count Bleck mentally cried out in utter disbelief. Never, and he meant _never,_ had Nastasia forced herself into his mind before. It was hard and fast, like a lightning bolt. He nearly squirmed as he carried on through the tunnel, the sensation of something pushing through his mind far different than simply mind-talking. It felt as if a sharp nail was clawing through the tissue of his brain—piercing through to his memories. To be honest, it was highly uncomfortable. Thoroughly unnerving to feel it was.

As if on instinct, he mentally attempted to build a barrier around his memories, tried to conjure a mental hand to push her forcibly out of his mind. But with Nastasia's outstanding abilities it was impossible to fight it as she practically pushed through the barricades as if they were merely silky curtains to tread through. The Count felt his pride burn at how powerless he was.

_I demand you stop this right now, Nastasia!_ Count Bleck ordered, furious. The fact that third person eluded him again was enough to demonstrate his seriousness.

_I...K', I found what I wanted anyway, _Nastasia's voice brimmed with guilt, and Count Bleck's anger instantly faltered at how emotionally hurt _she_ felt for having to resort to such measures. She should not have needed to, that much Bleck understood with a wave of his own guilt.

_So, you have no idea where they are, or what condition they are in either,_ They were statements rather than questions. Bleck outwardly cringed, unfortunately detected by Mario who had spared a glance over his shoulder at how slow he had gotten.

_Sincerest apologies, my dear, I...I just did not want you to worry yourself. You are already in a position of stress with your body this way, and I did not want your mind equally stressed by other worries._

_Yeah, that's fine, Count. But will you promise _me _something now?_

_Anything._

Bleck felt her softly smile_...Don't hide anything like this from me again._

"We're here fellow Mario and Bat Boy, sit back and drink yourself stupid!" Thomas interrupted once more in a sing-song tone, it echoing loudly off the stone walls. It was just too merry and joking. He missed Bleck's frustrated growl of annoyance at calling him that infuriating name again. Both Count Bleck and Mario raised an eyebrow when Thomas skipped over to a cabinet to yank out a 6-pack of Bubulb-bérry-Liquor from the top shelf. He froze when he noticed them staring, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. "What? Gonna need it for the long explanation, mates."

Both Mario and Bleck secretly heard alarm bells resound in the back of their conscience unbeknownst to each other.

"Moron," Phoebe hissed, her cousin merely smirking back. Mario took a slight step back at finding it a little frightening how the female stood obscured in the deepest shadows of the room, her white irises seeming to glow like a ghost in the dark depths.

Count Bleck disrespectfully snorted, "Do not just stand there like the fool you are, _Hero_. Move." He was a man of great pride and patience and that much was certain, but he had had enough of Mario just standing there like a dumbstruck fool in the doorway. On top of that, he reluctantly knew that they would be sharing company for far longer yet. "Some actually have a load to carry...oh wait—"

"Don't even finish that sentence, Bat Boy," Mario hissed.

"You are begging Count Bleck to hurt you."

Mario utterly ignored him and just walked into the room.

'Break Point' was completely correct, for it was a break from the narrow tunnels that branched from its sanctuary. Shaped as a dome in the stone, it rested safely beneath the ground with every step an echoing torment like the cries of a banshee, each step a wail, each step reminding them of why they were here. Each crisp echo of a step was almost cruel to hear, almost disheartening. It reminded Mario of how they were hiding. But what and who from? He still did not understand.

Those blue embers crackling in the Count's hand amplified when he also stepped into the dome. Mario only watched as Bleck moved over to an abandoned lantern resting on the table in the middle of the room, carefully reaching out and allowing his magical fire to burn and ignite the drying oil within. Amber eyes dully stared at the blue ember that immediately faded to orange when it no longer resided in his palm. No longer did it need his magic to fuel its flare. With its bathing glow now burning bright in the cage of the lantern the room was instantly revealed. Shadows hauntingly curled around the edges of the shelter away from the orange light.

Mario passed the Count whilst wondering around the small dome. Strangely, he missed the threatening narrow of the Count's eyes when he drew too close for the elegant man's comfort. As small as the room appeared to be, he found it still a relieving relief compared to the treacherous tunnels. Easiness washed over his heart at the space to move, to finally breathe.

He saw cabinets decaying from damp nailed to the walls, once green paint now murky with age, once steel handles layered with the rust of the centuries. Unlike the surrounding tunnels, there was no water underfoot. Mario sighed as his soaked shoes squelched slightly on the dry stone beneath his feet.

At the table, Thomas tiredly sat down and beckoned Mario over with a hand to which the other answered by approaching to take a seat beside the Toad. The chair screeched shrilly in resistance at being pulled back, much to the visible distaste of the other's present who had already taken their seats. Phoebe sat in the wooden chair to his right, Thomas to his left...and the Count opposite him. Phoebe did not respond when she distinctively felt the crawling of tension sparking between them—Count Bleck and Mario.

Thomas took a mighty swig of his beer, taking no time in chugging half the bottle in one sitting. Phoebe rolled her eyes at hearing her cousin gulping the alcohol down in a heartbeat. Chills once again wracked Mario's spine as she abruptly switched her blind gaze to him, seeming to see straight through him with emotionless orbs.

"These tunnels were built over three hundred years ago. Many tunnels have been discovered and closed off by the enemy, many companions having died in their demolition. Our great, great ancestors dug these tunnels, which they named the Hero's Hideout," Phoebe explained from her position with a hand under her chin, tone cold and heartless, almost bored. "These tunnels are meant for the hero when he finally arrived in order to lead him safely to our side's sanctuary. But...that particular pathway to the sanctuary was destroyed long ago."

"'Our _side?'"_ The Count quoted in suspicion to the Toadette. One hand rested upon the table, the other held Nastasia close. "Forgive me for sounding horribly repetitive of the _hero_ here, but...what exactly is going on in this kingdom?"

"To start it off," Thomas abruptly continued for his cousin, everyone groaning in disbelief as a hiccup soon followed. He continued with a noticeable pink tinge to his cheeks induced by beer. "It'd be best to talk about us first. To get cracking, our ancestors fought for this kingdom *hic* as they stuck by their vanished Princess Peach. Loyal they remained, even with her gone, and so they fought against _Him_ and _His_ army.

"To get another plate on the table of knowledge for ya *hic*, I and Phoebe-girl here are a Companion Pair, as we all call 'em at least. We all travel in pairs: one male and one female, keeping family together if possible, for some their companion is all they have left...poor saps."

"Why?" Mario asked, confused.

Phoebe hatefully scowled at him. "...We are the remains of the war...the war our ancestors lost."

Mario couldn't breathe. Such blind eyes filled with loathing, with hate, with _anger._ He raised a hand to his pale face, feeling ever so awfully sick. Such bewildering guilt coursed through him. So much tearing guilt! It was painful, killing. Blood ran cold in his veins, the icy freeze of her words spreading to his aching heart. And throughout his inner suffering...all he could hear were her despising words of grief.

"**Yes, five hundred years. Five hundred years of murder, war, blood and pain."**

_**Blood and pain.**_

Count Bleck remained considerably quiet opposite him.

Thomas started to tell the horrific tale that Mario was not sure he wanted to hear, "She's right, mates. We lost. Our side lost. Our ancestors left us this burden, left us waiting for the hero that never showed himself in their lifetimes*hic.* Very few of us remain...but we're still fighting. We're all on the run, we're all being hunted. The house that you guys were in was merely one of our hundreds of safe houses scattered about the Mushroom Kingdom, each linked by these tunnels that are our last resort hideouts. Rarely do we manage to rest in one safe house for a month before _they_ have tracked us. Even more rarely do we actually come across another Companion Pair down here, but it's happened. Every single pair is in exactly the same position as us, mates. On the run for their lives—hunted."

Tense silence consumed everything as that speech finished with Thomas swigging more urban coloured liquor: his third bottle. It was then, in the light of the lantern between them all, that Mario noticed something and forcibly swallowed.

Thomas's expression was one of utter mourning and agony.

_He drinks to try and forget, to try and help his problems. How much has he lost in his lifetime? He isn't joking around; he's just trying to cope,_ Was Mario's despaired realisation.

Unbeknownst to everyone, Bleck hesitantly grabbed his singed shoulder, withholding a hiss of pain. Crimson began to seep through the bandages. Transparent black smoke wafted from it, dark, painful, alarming, unnatural. Fortunately he concealed his pain well as everyone continued to not notice. Everyone except a pink haired girl lying in his arms, of course, who mentally glared at detecting it.

_**Count...Dimentio hurt you...didn't he?**_

"Considering my irresponsible cousin is drinking too much for his own good, I will tell the rest," The Toadette exclaimed.

Those bitter words immediately dragged the temperature down with them. Down, down, down it plummeted, anchoring and gripping their hearts with arctic claws. Opal eyes bore into Mario's frightened own even though he was certain she could not see where he sat. It was ever so unnaturally disturbing.

"The men that attacked the safe house are _His_ most trusted followers called the Raven-Callers. They round up the outcasts over the centuries and put them to death—no exceptions. The soldiers are nothing to fear much, but their Captain..." Her words trailed off, blind eyes glinting. Disgust flowed from her words in a whisper, "His name is Blorian: Blorian the Raven King. He is most certainly someone to fear, or _something_."

"Pardon my rudeness, Miss Phoebe, but I must interject," Count Bleck politely cut in, expression showing contemplation. Elegantly flourishing his wrist towards her his eyes narrowed to cautious slits. He voiced his opinion, strong and true, "Back at the house, I kept hearing 'find him' repeatedly—not _them_. Who exactly are these 'Raven Callers' after?"

"Excellent question, at least_ someone_ else is intelligent here," Phoebe remarked.

On the table surface, Mario's hands audibly clenched in inner turmoil. Why, oh why had she looked at himwhen she had said that, had glowered down upon him with such dislike beyond anything he could imagine.

The fact that Thomas had passed out to the floor from the alcohol eluded everyone's attention.

Phoebe sceptically snarled, "Do you two honestly believe that your entrance into this world went unnoticed? Why, such a magical disturbance could not have been missed. Who exactly are they after, Bleck asks me? Is it not obvious...?"

Ever so agonisingly slowly, Phoebe trailed her eyes from Bleck to pin them on Mario. Eyes as frosty as the heartless organ caged within her chest pierced him. All other things faded from existence to Mario, those noisy drips silenced, those crackling flames dulled, Count Bleck sat at the very same table vanishing. There was only Phoebe's cynical stare. A growing fear consumed him. His mind turned blank. His heart pounded. His breath caught.

All aware eyes fixed upon him: Count's amber and Phoebe's pearl. Silently, Mario shrunk down into his seat. He could feel it, feel his lungs, feel them shrinking.

And in the choking silence of suspense, Phoebe uttered those terrifying words that he did not wish to hear.

"They are after you..._Hero_."


	7. Trapped In A Nightmare

**PlEASE READ!: Thank you so much to those who support me and this story! Been a while since I submitted anything. I have a DA account where this story also is as well, along with my artwork. :) Do review to let me know what you think, it helps to boost my confidence since this story is not really getting noticed much. :( **

Trapped In A Nightmare

After conversing at the first 'Break Point,' the group had then travelled every remaining minute of the day. Further and further they had delved into the jagged jaws of these caverns in utter silence. Further and further into the throat and into the belly of the beast, these caves like trudging through the insides of a massive monster's winding stomach.

Throughout the entire time, Mario had noticed how Count Bleck kept a certain distance behind them. It was constantly a few metres no matter the circumstances. When he would slow down and try to get close to see what was up, Bleck would just growl low in his throat at him in irritation. An elegant wave of his wrist would always be his brush-off reply to his worried stares. Sometimes, Mario swore a slight push of invisible magic would push him forward if he lingered too close to the Count. But why, why was he always keeping his distance?

A rather...disheartening moment had also commenced on their journey. On their travels into the unknown, Thomas having moved to the front of their group holding the lantern, they had come across something so horrifying it had nearly made the hero vomit right there and then.

One of the tunnels had been demolished, but it was not that that had made bile claw up Mario's throat. No...

It was the skeleton hands in decaying flesh that motionlessly tried to claw free of the wreckage.

A hand had risen to his gaping mouth, and he had collapsed against the cold wall in shock. He had not even gasped at the sight as it was just too heart crushing to make any sort of response. All he could do was stare at the scratches in the stone beneath bone fingertips, the scratches that signalled desperation to escape—to survive. _If only, if only, _Mario had thought, face pale with a stomach viciously churning in anguish. If he had been here, if he had just _been_ here! Could he have saved them? Could he have saved so many lives lost over these five hundred years? And once again, deep down in his gut, that coil of guilt tightened tenfold.

In the morbid discovery, Count Bleck had wisely remained silent at the back of the group. Mario had found this a secretly comforting decision.

To say the group had hurried away from there was an understatement. However, they were forced to take a different route since their previous one was blocked off. How Thomas and even Phoebe knew where they were going in this rocky maze was beyond Mario and Bleck—especially considering Phoebe. Perhaps...they had travelled them so much it had become ingrained to memory.

Several hours passed since that depressing find until they had discovered what Thomas stated was a 'Rest Point': a point where a bedroom had been dug deep into the soil to sleep within. The dining area was exactly the same as the 'Break Points,' filled with cabinets of food, drinks and other equipment, along with a table in the middle encircled with chairs. Genius pipes built by the ancestors channelled fresh water from the underground river to the dining area, their only water supply to the kitchen.

It was so deep and clear that flowing underground river as Mario curiously peered into it. Its current was strong as it rapidly sped by, so powerful, so dangerous, yet so calming all the same. The rushing water was the only sound to be heard in this desolated cave. Mario had not missed the glint in the Count's eye at wanting to push him in, and had glared over his shoulder at Bleck for such a readable thought.

Exhausted with fatigue and the soreness of treading through uneven terrain for hours on end, they had all agreed it was time to rest for the night. However, the 'Rest Point' solely had a single bedroom, where they_ all_ had to sleep, which Count Bleck had argued exceedingly against, but had lost.

With four in the small space it was highly crowded, stuffy, overly hot, but at least they could get some much desired rest. Mario had been given one bed by Phoebe, who had scowled at him chillingly the entire time before dreams had finally claimed her...much to the hero's hidden relief. Bleck had taken the bed beside him with Nastasia (having flat out refused for her to sleep on a bunch of blankets on the floor in her condition.) And finally Thomas and Phoebe slept in the many layers of blankets upon the earthy ground, those blankets worn with the dirt stains of years of use. But overall the place was dry, hidden and safe, and that was all that mattered.

Mario believed they had travelled several miles from the Safe House by this point, but why did it still feel as if they were not safe? Ironic is it not? How long would it take to feel safe again? Well, he believed he would never feel safe until _He_ was defeated...whoever _He_ was. Suspicion tugged at his cautious mind as the hero realised the Toads kept on avoiding to tell them who exactly was behind it all.

Who was behind this Age of Darkness?

With confused thoughts and scary images of decaying hands in his mind, the hero had finally drifted off into a restless slumber.

XXXX

Beyond the winding tunnels of the Hero's Hideout, the full moon shone brightly like a glowing pearl in the black velvet sky. The sky's blanket of blackness was adorned with the sparkling diamonds that were it stars. Each star blinked with innocence beyond the moonlight that bathed the world in a soothing caress. Like an angel, it gently held the world in its glow, easing those of wary hearts in the dark of the night.

If only it could just reach out. Reach out to comfort below the ground...

_**It leers at me. His cackles taunt me. I have nowhere to run! Massive bloodied fangs smirk. His mouth gapes—ready to— **_

_**His face suddenly vanishes into the shadows before me. I freeze, abruptly feeling a horrible niggling sensation up my spine instead. It is slow, cold, warning me. I know he is still there...I can feel it in every alert fibre of my being. I resist the urge to fidget in this black abyss as from behind me a hiss smirks like a serpent into my ear.**_

"_**Hee, hee...hi there, dear Count. Miss me?"**_

"_**Never," I growl, hearing it echo through this never ending darkness that refuses to cease. "You are dead—stop haunting my dreams."**_

"_**Don't you mean your nightmares, dear Count?" I hear him chuckle outright evilly, icy breath menacingly ghosting against the rim of my ear, sending unwanted shivers down my spine. A cold lump lodges into my throat. It is so tight. I can barely breathe. I feel that familiar fear blooming in my chest—he is too close. Dread. Dread is all that consumes me. I can not stand it. I feel panic exploding in my heart.**_

"_**Get away from me, you traitor!" **_

_**My breath catches. Calm hands have grabbed my shoulders, holding them firm against my will. I grunt as I try to yank myself free of his grasp, his sickening grasp which is unrelenting on my shoulders. Claws are piercing my flesh there and against my burning pride I can not withhold the cry as he forces them in further. He is close, too **_**close!**

_**My eyes screw shut. "Ah! Get off me!"**_

A decrepit bed frame groaned in resistance as Mario equally groaned as he awoke. Darkness, that was all he could see surrounding him when exhausted eyelids fluttered open. A knowledge that he had not slept long was evident whilst he tiredly stretched into his pillows. How long had it been? Two hours? Merely one? He would never know, for it seemed the concept of time was non-existent down here. Did the descendents of this war, Phoebe and Thomas included, adjust to such lapses of time? It felt undeniably unreal, empty.

Was that the theme of their lives...? Emptiness, nothing? No time, no present let alone a future, and harbouring a bloodied past that was their curse? He shakily sighed as the mere thought sent his heart dropping into his stomach of guilt.

Mario licked his lips when his throat felt horribly dry from the stuffiness of the bedroom. He sighed a croaky sigh and was about to get up and to get a drink when he suddenly heard something beside him. Mario froze flat against the mattress, eyes wide. His mind momentarily froze. What was that noise? It...It sounded distressed.

"Count?" He groggily called, voice quietly rough from sleep. No answer replied.

Rubbing his sleep scattered bangs out of his eyes, Mario felt around hastily for the matchbox. You could hear the small clangs and thuds as he felt around the shadows to his right where the bedside draws were supposed to be. Luckily, he managed to find them with a sense of triumph. As fast as his uneasy fingers would allow him, he yanked a match and struck it true.

"Hey mate, what're ya doing?! Some have a hangover here," Thomas hissed like a screeching bat defying the dawn, making Mario jump and clutch his chest with a spare hand. Covering his eyes for a second time that day, Thomas moaned, "What is it with ya guys and trying to burn my eyes out of my sockets."

"Shhh!" Mario silenced him.

All fell quiet...

Except for the low whimpers of someone familiar.

"What's that mate?" Thomas asked, now curious. He quickly scrambled up from the floor to creep over to Mario's bed, flopping down on it and crossing his stubby legs. There he sat beside the hero in the glow of the match, eyebrow rising as he cocked his head to the side in interest. "Is it Bat Boy?"

"Of course it is."

Both males nearly screamed like little girls when Phoebe suddenly appeared out of the nowhere. She stood right next to them, making them jerk back in utter disbelief. She just stood there glaring into nothing with emotionless eyes.

"When did ya wake up?" Thomas croaked, not understanding how his cousin managed these things. Not only did it always seem like she was staring through you like _you _were a ghost...she managed to materialize out of nowhere like she _was_ one.

Phoebe's expression was blank in the glow of the match. "When you literally trod on me, you moron."

"Oh, sorry," Thomas smirked.

But Mario paid the bickering Toads no mind. Carefully, he leant over to view the other bed, agonisingly slowly spreading the radius of his match. Orange light slowly grew, revealing a wooden bed frame, then a dipping mattress, the crinkles of a rumpled bed sheet. Eyes trailed further, detecting the outline of a figure in the dark. It tossed and turned. It whimpered and groaned. Mario's eyebrows furrowed, heart racing in his chest. It was then in the eerie light of the ember that he saw him.

The match nearly dropped from his fingers.

A gasp escaped him, "B-Bleck?!"

Both Phoebe and Thomas stopped bickering instantly. They whipped around to the Count, transfixed.

Phoebe's expression turned even more serious, blind eyes flashing in knowing, "Thomas."

"I'm on it," Thomas answered immediately, understanding what she wanted. In a blink of an eye Thomas vanished from the bedroom to get the First Aid Kit.

_**My stomach feels frozen to the point I swear I would throw up liquid ice. I want—no—need! I need him away from me! My heart is racing, I can not calm it, it is impossible. On instinct and against the stabs of pain that are causing tears to build, I struggle to release myself from him. I hear as well as feel my shoulders tearing, the blood, the seeping blood, the blood soaking my shirt—**_

The Count abruptly cried out from his nightmare. His face was contorted in pain, in obvious blinding agony. Blood. Crimson blood. It stained the shoulder black in the shadows, soaked through the bandage. White material tainted red. Droplets stained the sheets. It was everywhere—_everywhere. _His movements were harsh—frantic.

"W-What are you doing?" Mario demanded when Phoebe drew nearer to the Count's distressed form.

His throat instantly tightened. A heart freezing pierce stabbed his chest. Phoebe turned her heartless gaze on him. Such icy displeasure aimed from sharp opals.

"Be useful for once, _hero_. Go get the lantern before the match sets your glove alight," She spat.

Desperate for the Count's sake Mario didn't dare disobey. Leaping from the bed he bolted through the door.

"_**Oh, my dear Count, does that hurt?" He darkly cackles into my ear. **_

_**I grimace, for I can hear it: I can hear the enjoyment oozing from his words. I could practically feel it pulsing from him—feel the joys of bloodshed. It sickens me beyond anything I could imagine.**_

"_**L-Let...me...GO!" I roar, and I feel my pride horrendously crack at how helpless I sound. **_

"Stay away from me!" Count Bleck yelled out in his sleep.

Phoebe gasped as one of his hands flailed, smacking the brown antiseptic bottle from her grasp. She was desperately trying to attend and redress his wound. All had attempted to wake him from whatever nightmare he was having. All had failed. There was no other choice but to work with him in this state.

In worry for Nastasia, Mario moved her to his own unoccupied bed.

_**He relents digging those talon-like nails into my flesh for the briefest of moments, a slight gesture of easing up. I should have known better as he whispered a taunt, "So helpless, like a tiny rodent waiting for experiments, trapped in a cage for slaughter...except your cage is yourself."**_

"_**I do not want to hear your vile riddles," I hiss.**_

_**My body is shaking from the immense pain. And unfortunately, as he mockingly wraps his arms around my neck, he seems to notice. It would have seemed as if he was gently hugging me if I had not glimpsed his bloodied fangs smirking in the corner of my eye. Pure unease takes over me. My pride is screaming at my weakness. No. He is too close! I can not take it.**_

_**Much to his surprise, I elbow him in the stomach—hard. I am desperate, my heart pounding, for he is clinging to me. I hate being touched. I need distance; my 'fear' consumes me otherwise. I hear him splutter in pain over my shoulder as he doubles over where he hovers. Here is my chance. **_

_**I ran.**_

Mario had been ordered by Phoebe to get behind the Count and wrap his arms around his neck to help keep him down. He gasped as he just managed to avoid the Count bashing him in the stomach with an elbow. It was just in his nightmare, but it seemed on purpose somehow. The Count was sweating profoundly in his grip.

Fortunately, Mario had placed the burning lantern on the bedside draws beforehand.

Thomas had been told to grab anything she asked, including the antiseptic that had flown from her fingertips. He hastily handed it to her, distraught.

"P-Phoebe, there's so much blood," Thomas muttered. His eyes were wide at the blood as if locked in a trance. Mario was faring no better—being drenched in it by this stage. "What do we do?"

"SNAP OUT OF IT THOMAS!" Phoebe roared.

She literally spun around and smacked him plain across the face. It was vicious and loud, echoing nastily. Thomas's face was thrown to the side from the force. Mario flinched.

Thomas just stood there dumb folded, but it did not last as he shook his head to snap himself out of it. Her slap had worked it seemed.

"Whoa, bitchy," Thomas remarked.

The scene would have been comical if there was not a sense of urgency in the air.

And if the Count was not losing vast amounts of blood—fast.

_**All I can do is run, run for all I am worth. But how much am I worth? My feet are thundering through this ever present darkness. It feels like I am running into nothing, feels like I am not getting anywhere. Almost as if I am on some sort of treadmill. Yet, I must keep going, I must keep running.**_

_**Despite my efforts to flee I feel him approaching me as if I am just standing there for his pickings. My heart is booming through this emptiness. My breathing is frantic. My muscles are tense—slowing me down.**_

_**And throughout it all, I sorrowfully knew that he can hear my heart racing too, can hear my gasping breaths, can sense my rigid muscles. I feel so, so hopeless. How can you run from something that is in your head?**_

"_**Come now, dear Count. Don't you wanna play? Considering I was previously talking about rodents, how about Mouse Trap? You are the mouse and I am the cat. Better run now...or I'll catch you~"**_

_**I feel my heart nearly stop in my ribs.**_

"He has gotten so frantic. Thomas, hold down his arm—I need to stitch his shoulder!" Phoebe ordered. The stress was evident in her voice.

"But you're _blind!_" Mario exclaimed. He was downright worried for Blumiere, even though he would never admit it out loud.

"Yeah, and more qualified than either of you. Just trust me will you!"

Trust a _blind _person to do stitches? Would you? But despite the doubt, Mario kept his mouth shut.

Both Thomas and Mario firmly held the squirming Bleck: Mario to his neck from behind and Thomas to his left arm. They grunted as they used all their power to hold the panicked Count down to the bed. Pressure was firm as they pushed him against the mattress strongly with their hands.

After Phoebe felt the needle hole with a finger, judging its size and distance, she thread the fine silk through. All the while she tried to ignore the ruckus as she concentrated. It was outstandingly done much to Mario's shock, as even a normal person had trouble threading thin threads through a needle-eye. She had done it expertly with calm, pale eyes.

When Phoebe made the first stitch the response was instant.

"_**Ow!"**_

_**What was that? It stings, it burns, downright hurts. I stagger in the darkness as I grip my left shoulder; the shoulder I know is badly injured in reality. A thought crosses my mind that something very, very wrong was happening in the real world. I need to wake up—now. **_

"_**Oh? It seems the real world beckons you like flies to a lamp, my dear Count," I hear him state. My heart jolts when one topaz and one onyx eye all of sudden appear before me. Crimson stained fangs make me feel sick; make me want to turn away. But I can not seem to avert my gaze. His smirk seems to choke me as he whispers, "...Or is it beckoning you like Death to a grave. Ciao!"**_

_**I gasp as I suddenly fall through nothingness. I am falling, falling, falling...**_

Amber eyes shot open. Everyone instantly froze, even Phoebe who had sensed his abrupt awareness. The stitch she had made was strung by the string to where her hand held the needle paused in the air. The grip of Toad and hero swiftly relaxed on his arm and neck. Nothing dared to move, dared to speak, until the Count did something first.

Fortunately, it did not take him long to process everyone holding him down.

"Ah! What are you all doing? Get your hands off me. Do not touch me!" Count Bleck shouted, now alert and fully awake. His tone was strangely...scared? Third person seemed to allude him—a bad sign. Apart from the nightmare, Mario tried to figure out why this was.

"Thank Grambi, took ya long enough to wake up, Bat Boy. If we'd known all we needed to do was prick ya with a needle we would've done it sooner."

Count Bleck whipped his head to Thomas, raising a delicate eyebrow at the signature smirk on his face.

"What are you talking ab-OW!" Bleck indignantly cried out, cheeks flushing with pride-hurt embarrassment. He cleared his throat as he forced himself to withhold the remainder of discomfort. He hesitantly glanced to his shoulder with wary eyes, frowning at distinguishing Phoebe's feminine hand—stained with his blood—gently creating another stitch in the lantern light. His amber eyes softened in realisation. "Oh..."

Thomas chuckled, "Yes, 'oh', me and Mario here had to pin ya down."

Count Bleck instantly tensed. Mario alarmingly picked up on it from his position behind the Count. Perhaps saying something like that was a terribly bad idea. Bleck remained deadly still for a moment, and Mario's eyebrows furrowed when he felt the Count's heart begin to unexplainably race again through Bleck's back. Mario's concern grew even greater when Bleck's breaths became raspy and those fiery eyes widened in panic.

"Get off me!" Bleck ordered. Much to the surprise of everyone, he began to thrash at them, especially at Mario. "Just back off—do not touch me!"

"We're trying to help you," Mario assured in exasperation, but it was of no use as the Count began to struggle against them.

"I do not need your pity, _hero!"_

It was then Bleck did something no one expected.

As if relying on primal instinct alone, Blumiere Bleck screwed his eyes shut whilst all of a sudden thrusting his arm up. He magically pushed them away. Mario hit the wall with a hiss of agony. Thomas cried out as he landed on the ground. Phoebe gasped, both annoyed and disbelieving, when she also got thrown back by the energy wave.

The stitching thread audibly snapped—the needle falling from her grasp.

Before anyone could reassure him or call him back, Count Bleck, covered in his own blood, fled the dug out bedroom as if Death himself was stalking his heels. Even in his state, he still managed to make such an exit graceful regardless.

Not even Nastasia mentally calling to him from Mario's bed succeeded in drawing him back to them.

"We continue on to Rogueport tomorrow, we need our sleep—especially Bat Boy. That injury is worse than I thought; I suggest ya encourage him to go to a doctor as soon as we arrive," Thomas whispered softly to Mario, who was just standing there with his hand outstretched for the door...hand frozen and the Count's name dying on his lips.

_In all honesty, I don't believe he will listen to me,_ Mario thought, a sense of drowning despair swallowing him whole.

In the horrid silence that had consumed the three, Mario noticed something lying on the floor that had not been there before. He bent down to pick it up from the blanket covered ground. He then just held it gently, staring at it...

At Count Blumiere Bleck's top hat.


	8. Finally Awakening

**Me: I am so, so sorry I have not undated this in so long! This is a shorter chapter for a reason, but I hope that does not bother you. ^^**

**I have not written for this in so long and I hope this chapter**_** feels **_**the same as the others. Let me know on that alright?**

Finally Awakening

Everything was deadly silent. Crimson trails of smoke reach towards an empty sky, an endless abyss of nothingness. Black flames obscure the sun that is merely a dull ball of crimson, so distant, so hopeless, so faint. A world consumed by never ending shadows and unseen horrors that are the wielders of darkness—that are the demons of the mind. No life seems to sprout here…it would never dare.

A realm with neither sunlight nor the essence of life, a realm desolate beyond compare, this is what lies here. Yet one thing remains entirely true in the endless blackness: empty it maybe, but with fear it contained plenty to fill it. One does not simply wake up in a foreign realm without their nightmares jaws chewing their very hearts out. And to one fair maiden this was no exception.

Eyelids smeared with the remains of pink eye-shadow slowly fluttered open, revealing irises that were a colour to remind the innocent of a real sky that would never be welcomed here. They shone with brilliance dulled by pain as a she lay utterly still. That horrid pain originated from her head that she must have hit at some point beforehand, but the memory of it eluded her. Where was she? How had she gotten here…?

"Luigi?" Her exhausted voice groaned, secretly desperate to hear another. "Bowser?"

Her voice echoed eerily back. No answer came. Instead, a sense of terror took the replies place. Eyes widened as she shot up, pink dress a flourishing blur and blonde hair as bright as the sun wildly fluttering around her. The harsh movement made her gasp as the realm suddenly vibrated beneath her feet in annoyed response. She could not help but shiver at the sensation…for the realm felt _alive_ in some way. She decided to keep quiet and her jaw tightened to ensure it, for it felt as if the very dark spirit of this place was listening intently, and it frightened her.

She wearily looked around at the place she had appeared in. Indeed, strange crimson mist hovered low in the distance, surrounding her every side. Her eyes trailed down to the ground beneath her shiny, pink heels, only to tremble at seeing the black stone laced with glowing vines. A squeal of horror escaped her against her will. Veins, they reminded her of veins! They pulsed, twisted and turned, linked to the very earth of this realm. They were the only source of light as the sun gave nothing and they basked her in a terrifying, red glow.

Utterly fearful and disgusted, the maiden took a hasty step back, only to be rewarded by a loud groan when she trod on something soft.

"AH!"

"Don't scream, Princess. It's just me, Luigi!"

Princess Peach spun around with an expression of relief. "Oh, thank golden mushrooms! Why did you not…"

Peach trailed off in complete disbelief coupled with nerves. Nothing. What she came face to face with…was nothing. No one was there. All she saw where the voice of her dear friend had spoken was emptiness.

Luigi's voice echoed throughout the darkness, "Princess, don't worry, I can't see you either. I only saw you briefly, and that was when you touched me."

"W-Where are you?" Peach stammered, uneasy. She could hold her own anytime, but this was creepy and haunting stuff.

"…I'm in front of you, of course."

Blinking, Peach hesitantly raised a slender hand gloved in white. It seemed as if she was reaching for some invisible goal that would not be revealed unless she tried to reach. Perhaps that was the point. Only when you desired to see someone in this realm, and attempted to reach for them, would they reveal themselves. Her eyes narrowed in hate. What kind of twisted magical curse ailed this place!

Much to her surprise, she released a shocked gasp as fingertips suddenly brushed something unseen. It all happened so fast. The moment her fingers graced her friend then Luigi suddenly flashed before her eyes. Her hand sharply retracted as her heart pounded like a racing horse in her chest. However, as soon as physical contact broke, Luigi faded away to remain unseen.

_Is this in my head, am I going insane?_ She thought in a mental panic. Quickly, she straightened herself with dignity only royalty could possess. _No, no of course not, a princess does not simply lose her cool._

Feeling a little more reassured at knowing her friend was close, Peach dared to reach once more. Once again fingers touched a solid shoulder unseen and Luigi appeared before her with a comforting smile. His smile gave her a bit more confidence as she released a shaky breath.

Her spare hand hovered above her anxious heart, her tone revealing her worry, "Oh Luigi, I am so glad you are safe. Where are we, do you know? Goodness me how will we find Bowser! He could be anywhere. And Mario…what happened to Mario? The others?"

"Princess," Luigi began, eyebrow rising. Too many questions had just bombarded him. He gently took her hand currently touching his shoulder so that they could remain able to see each other. His eyes spoke volumes as they met hers, but those volumes only made Peach sigh in solemn understanding. He continued with an expression full of sympathy. "I wouldn't know Miss, I'm just as in the dark as you are—no pun intended."

"How long have you been conscious for?"

"A day or two, I have been so scared!" Luigi suddenly buckled, voice breaking. "To be honest I don't know, Princess. There seems to be no concept of time here. The dull redness in the sky is unmoving and the darkness unchanging."

The princess gave her close friend a warm, pitying smile at the pure sense of fear in his eyes, one that had become all too familiar over the years. She giggled lightly and held his hand tighter in order to reassure the more timid male. Although, deep down in her writhing gut, she felt just as nervous if not more so.

Could this haunting place be the Underwhere? A small sound of realisation escaped her and she decided to voice the thought to her loyal companion.

"You have been to the Underwhere, correct? Is that where we are now?" Peach inquired. Her voice sounded as rich and soothing as a gentle bell, one that eased the other's heart with its familiar ring.

Luigi shook his head regrettably. "No, Miss. This isn't the Underwhere, I _know_ the Underwhere. No, this place feels…much more sinister. It scares me!"

_Oh, Luigi,_ Peach thought fondly, before she looked away from his pale face to further survey her surroundings. _You and me both. The whereabouts of Mario intrigue me the most…where is he? And if this horrifying place truly is not the Underwhere, then where are _we?

Frosty coldness like that of an ice wolf's breath weighed down the air. It settled on their lush, living skin foreign to this land—warm life against cold lifelessness—sending chilling shivers down their spines. Wind did not appear to exist within the morbid realm, nor a lively breeze…as if air itself had died. Stillness, such heart menacing stillness consumed the world of black and red. Death seemed to crawl in their every hair, to watch from the shadows, to silently prowl after them, to live in the pulsing veins of crimson red beneath their feet.

It was then, in that moment, that Peach realised the truth: the realm was not foreign to them…rather _they_ were to _it_. They were two insignificant bodies throbbing with life against an entire world of cold shadow that curiously housed them.

Suddenly the entire realm seemed to shimmer at their sudden silence. Both whimpered in distress as a dull, persistent roar echoed throughout the abyss like the sound of distant thunder. It made their skin crawl. It appeared almost as if the very substance of the world beckoned them to do something. Like a curious cat, it seemed to wait and examine them like they were motionless mice.

"I don't like this P-Princess," Luigi stuttered, and regretted it when the realm became horribly still in curiousness. "I-I want to get out of here!"

"Do not threat Sweetie; I am sure Mario will save us. Until then I believe we should move and find Bowser, staying still for long does not seem wise here."

"A-As you command, Princess," Luigi replied. Unknown to him his grasp on her hand increased.

Peach rolled her eyes with a huff, yet kindness abound flowed from her beautiful eyes. "It is Peach to you, Luigi."

"Y-Yes, Princess."

Said princess shook her head and face-palmed, groaning. Good Grambi, could Luigi not be proper even in these circumstances? She decided to let it slide just this once,_ but I am determined to make you see me as 'Peach' and not 'Princess,' Luigi. You are my closest friend other than Mario and I wish for you to see me as just the same._

The two strangers in this frightening realm travelled onward, hand in hand, their chilling fear of losing each other if they let go forever on their minds. Each step as they walked into the darkness sounded too loud to their alert ears…and the realm remained contently still in response.


	9. Why Won't You Let Me Help You?

Why Won't You Let Me Help You?

Water naturally flowed over distant pebbles, those black and grey stones far out of reach beneath the rushing water surface. Bubbles calmly brewed and popped on the water's surface. A heart gripping chill descended over the cavern, seeming to linger like a haunting ghost over the river's flow. It felt so frosty in the air, like their truly was a ghost haunting these tunnels. Maybe it was plausible considering the many deaths that had transpired in this hideout. Or maybe, just maybe, it was the humiliated magic of a Count that was unintentionally freezing the atmosphere itself, a pride having been cracked, a dignity having been damaged.

Reflections of the glistening river mystically flew across the uneven rocky walls in lights of blue and white, across the moss that had marvellously managed to grow on some rocky surfaces, across a man on shaky knees by the river bank. Shadows seemed to mock him from the depths of the river as he stared at his distorted reflection. An agitated growl echoed, followed by a splash when hands harshly threw themselves in the cool liquid to splash his face.

_Damn you Dimentio!_ Count Bleck mentally screamed to the heavens with a frayed mind_. Why must you taunt Count Bleck? Why must you remain in Count Bleck's head when you are dead?! _ The fact that his thoughts had drifted back to third person displayed to him that he was calming down. He sighed at finding this immensely reassuring. But, his eyes narrowed, he could not shake the images of the nightmare from his mind, or the scene he had awoken to.

A groan of humiliation audibly resounded as he placed his face in his palms.

Through the minutes that he had sat their brooding in shame, he had ignored the drying blood caking his dress-shirt—the absolute mess he was in. He just remained there kneeling by the fresh river. He just remained there attempting to piece his scattered brain back together.

Lost in the labyrinth of his mind, he did not notice the clink of slowly approaching footsteps. They were awfully hesitant steps. Clink...clink...crunch, as they stepped upon the gravelly river bank. Or at least...he acted as if he had not heard.

"Come any closer, _Hero_, and I will cut your legs off," Bleck drawled, bored.

"You wouldn't," Mario carefully answered, knowing he was treading on fragile ground after what had occurred back in the bedroom. So many questions were evident in his voice, but he bottled them up.

Mario was...shocked, to say the least. There Count Bleck was, kneeling by the river bank, no starry cloak to billow elegantly about him, or a top hat to cover his hair. Yet it was his hair that struck Mario. Count Bleck had hair? It was not long, like shoulder-length long, or short, like close to the scalp. It was long enough to be classed as medium, perfectly covering his head and draping in all the right places. That included just over his ears, his pointed ears the same dark blue as his skin.

Mario tentatively took a step closer, and waited. Bleck did not turn to him. Risking it, he took another, then another. All the while Bleck remained frightfully still where he kneeled by the river.

Bleck gave a stubborn sigh, "Apologies, but stealth is not on your list of talents, if you even have a list that is."

"Ha-ha," Mario deadpanned, scowling daggers at the Count's back. He secretly sighed in relief though: hateful sarcasm was a great sign, if not a little demeaning from his perspective.

"Do not come any closer," Bleck stated to the river in a tone thick and silky with warning, and Mario felt his stomach knot as there was an edge of something the Count obviously tried to hide. It was the edge of exhaustion and desperation. An amber eye peered over his shoulder, chancing a glare at the other. "I do not need your sympathy."

The hero had to withhold a gasp when Bleck had turned to narrow his eyes at him. Around his eyes draped perfect bangs, all curling from a right-side parting to the left, some slightly covering his left eye more than his right, _he...looks even more human than ever._

Yet the hair itself was striking in its own right, even if only for the colour. For the Count's hair was as fiery orange as his eyes—not ginger—a yellowy, flame-like orange. In fact, Mario swore some very few strands were gold whilst most others were orange at the same time. It contrasted outstandingly well against the blackish blue of his skin...like flames in the night.

Unfortunately, as sensitive to auras as Bleck was, he detected it instantly. He almost felt a little self conscious as the hero's aura seemed to slow, showing he was thinking about something.

Count Bleck cleared his throat, voice richly low and smooth, "Quite finished staring, _Hero?_ There is nothing even relatively appealing to stare at."

Mario cocked an eyebrow at that comment. The last thing he ever expected was for the Count to show signs of such low self-esteem. After all, he was always referring to himself as third person as if he was all important. It was then the thought struck him like a lightning bolt that, perhaps, the Count just did it out of habit?

In respect, Mario averted his gaze from Bleck's tense face. But he could not fully draw his eyes away from him for one sole reason. He could only stare at the still seeping wound on Bleck's left shoulder, wanting nothing more than to stitch it himself. _Damn hero complex!_ Mario mentally hit his head on a brick wall. It was then he noticed how, every now and then, unnatural black wisps of smoke drifted from the burn of Dimentio. It instantly made worry turn to full blown concern.

He hastily took a couple of steps towards him. But he instantly froze midway when the Count sent another one of those repelling winds his way. He braced himself with a grunt, his red hat flying off in the sudden gust. It landed metres away by the table in the dining area, but he paid it no mind. With brown hair whipping about his eyes he took another step forward. No, he was not doing it; he was not going to just walk away.

Bleck's eyes flashed. He had seen it, as bright as day, when the other male's aura had flared white in concern.

"Bleck, for cannelloni sake! Let me over!" Mario ordered above the now steady wind, feeling brave. The Count raised a delicate eyebrow over his shoulder at the other's persistence.

In his own conjured winds, the Count's amber hair fluttered gracefully about his face. He glared at him with a scepticism that even Phoebe would be proud of if she could see it.

"Indeed? Pardon me for asking, but why?"

"...I've got your hat if it makes you more comfortable."

Count Bleck shot his eyes to the hero's other hand that was not up shielding his face from the magic wind. Indeed, in that gloved palm, was firmly held his beloved top hat. Mario found his heart skip a beat when that steady wind lessened ever, _ever_ so slightly. He met eye contact with Blumiere—sapphire meeting amber—assurance meeting uncertainty.

Several seconds passed before a sigh escaped Bleck and he hesitantly dropped his wind.

Elegantly, he raised his hand out. "Count Bleck's hat, please."

Not wanting to take the accepted halt in repelling him for granted, Mario nodded before striding over to the Count. An expression of confusion crossed his face as, when he drew close enough to stand right next to him, the Count almost seemed to flinch at his presence. The Count had turned his face away, hand still held up in waiting, refusing to meet eye contact. For some reason it made Mario's heart sting in the emotion that Bleck refused to accept—pity.

_Why is he like this? Maybe I'll never know..._

"Here you go," Mario stated as he placed the large top hat in the waiting palm. You could practically hear the warm smile in his voice, which made Bleck raise a confused eyebrow.

Count Bleck slightly glanced to him in the corner of his eye. "...Thank you, much appreciated."

As the Count pulled his bangs up with a hand, he replaced his beloved hat upon his head where it belonged. He did it in just the right way that every lock of hair was concealed just like before.

"You really need to sort that out," Mario exclaimed as if he could not contain it anymore. Count Bleck blinked at him, following the pointing finger to his still painful shoulder. "Seriously, you did lose a lot of blood back there...and it's still going."

"Joy, stating the obvious_ is_ your forte," Bleck droned in a tone just dripping with sarcasm. "Did the blood still trickling from it send you an email?"

Mario palm smacked his forehead in frustration, groaning. The Count gave him another of those rare and cunning smirks.

Out of the blue, Mario took advantage of his closeness to raise a hand. Bleck visibly flinched and tensed. The hand rose to touch the now non-bandaged wound—just like he had attempted before back at the blossom tree. Almost as if on reflex, the Count snarled and instantly slapped the hand away.

Mario recoiled, rubbing the top of his hand where it now stung. Count Bleck just glared, sharp, tired, defensive.

"Do. Not. Touch. Me," Bleck menacingly growled, eyes ablaze as his defensive mechanism was obviously triggered.

The red-clad hero willingly took a couple of steps away at feeling a warning breeze start to brew once more. However, at the blatant respect to make distance, the Count allowed the starts of the wind to die down to nothing.

Bleck merely stared at the ground, stating to it, "You need a change of clothes, for yours are soaked with blood."

"Look who's talking, Count...and now look who's stating the obvious," Mario smirked.

"Count Bleck will not hesitate to push you in the river."

After that mock threat—at least Mario sweated as he thought it was false—silence settled between them. The silence was only slightly uncomfortable instead of tense for a change, but nowhere near at ease at all. The peaceful sounds of rushing water filled their senses again as they remained there: the Count kneeling by the river and the hero standing by, yet because the Count was so tall it was him kneeling that made them eyelevel.

Count Bleck would not lie to himself...he did feel odd. He felt dizzy and slightly ill in the pit of stomach, perhaps from blood loss, perhaps from the lack of sleep, who knows. All in all it did not matter what the source was.

He gave a sigh which immediately caught Mario's interest. Gradually, he lifted a hand to his left shoulder. Grimacing in pain, he grasped the wound tightly. His palm was instantly stained crimson. Mario could only watch curiously as a bluish glow erupted beneath those slender fingers.

With a grunt of discomfort, he finally pulled his hand away.

Mario's breath caught.

The wound was not healed by any means as it released more peculiar tendrils of black smoke occasionally, but it had gained a clean appearance whilst the blood had ceased oozing. There, holding the two sides of the deep gash together, like a canyon with a dangerously thin bridge connecting the two sides, was a silvery thread sparkling in the reflections of the river water. It was obviously a magical thread created by the Count.

For some reason, the Count did not seem satisfied in the least whilst examining his work.

"It seems it will not allow Count Bleck to heal it, Dimentio must have done this on purpose...a final dying wish of his, Count Bleck believes. Count Bleck had stitched this up from top to bottom with no gaps, yet had felt the wound forcibly snap nearly every single string...only one remains."

Just as the Count said this out loud, the wound released a sudden transparent waft of dark smoke. Blumiere glared at it when it forcibly snapped the final thread like a pair of shadow scissors had come along to cut it. The poor glittering string of magic seemed to silently cry out as it withered away into nothingness. It had been no match for it, no match for the strange curse Dimentio had set.

"What does it mean?" Mario was almost afraid to ask.

Suddenly, Bleck took a drastic U-turn as he whipped his head around to scowl at him with loathing.

"What do you care, _Hero?_ It is truly none of your business. You do not even know me—stay out of things that do not concern you," The Count said.

Then the man elegantly stood up with a posture demonstrating high pride despite everything as he brushed his knees off.

_Back to his repelling and defensive self, I see, _Mario thought with a wave of disappointment.

Blumiere Bleck had obviously seen the indigo flare in Mario's aura, the deep colour of disappointment, for he tipped his hat down slightly with a snort. He turned on his heel to return for the bedroom, finding exhaustion was pulling hard on his chest. He just abandoned Mario standing there as he passed him a considerable distance away

_Why do you refuse to let me be? _Count Bleck thought, annoyed.

_Why won't you let me help you? _Mario mentally whispered.

For the very briefest of moments, Count Bleck had relented in his defensiveness that night. But, as Mario could only watch him once again walk away, nothing if not guarded, he realised it was just the bout of exhaustion and the disturbance of the nightmare that had made the guarded man lapse for a minute or two. The stubborn Count was just as reluctant and guarded as ever before.

And Mario could only feel a sense of loneliness...but he could not figure out why.


	10. The Terrors Elsewhere

The Terrors Elsewhere

Winds so desolate blew across a lonesome land early that dawn. Sand as dark as natures blood hauntingly swirls about desert hills, wind as dry as the landscape itself, as dry as the land's very spirit howling her heartless storms across the dunes. Her sand storms are her anger. Her scolding sun is her boredom. Yet, in the dawn of a new day, she merely yawns from a coyote muzzle a breeze, boredom evident in those clear skies that warn. Heat would bellow today, it seemed.

Not a single shred of hope seems to settle here, or a traveller lacking intelligence enough to brave the sandy trials. Trees long since dead lie scattered about the sands in the form of shrivelled, gnarled, decrepit statues untouched. Against bark decayed and dried, the sun's orange glow begins to spread. The sun has merely begun to rise above the distant mountains—a threat to all.

And it is here, in the throes of dry hell, in the heat of the sun that is Death's glaring eye…that a stranger lies motionless.

All of a sudden, two vultures cawed in excitement at spotting their strange prey as they swirled the skies. They swooped menacingly low, landing above in the deadened tree the. Black beady eyes locked on the one spotted beneath branches, hopping uncontrollably about the tree's dried web of wood. Meat, fresh meat, the creatures could not have been more pleased for an answered prayer! To be an animal of the desert is to salvage what you can, to welcome circumstance with open arms. Survival is bleak here in the Dry Dry Desert.

The stranger's eyes remained closed while the hot breeze continued to wash over him. He can not feel it…for death has claimed him for a while now.

Both keen vultures seemed to realize the truth. They watch the body for a moment, grey and black feathers shimmering with their hunger. Ravenous beaks speak to one another as they eye up their prey—their delectable next meal.

But the large birds appeared hesitant upon their perch. Why be so hesitant when their ticket to survival lay below their talons? They hunched low, glaring stern daggers. One suddenly released a threatening squawk.

It was because they had seen another. Another person, more than alive if not on the edge of dying from age, hobbled towards their untouched feast of dead flesh.

Quiet mumbles murmured under a feminine breath, each step towards the corpse stiff and slowed. Within a cane that is her walking-stick shined a sphere of embedded ruby, one that yellow withered fingers clutched tight. Such a dangerous jewel, such a mysterious glint it held. The deep purple cloak, its hood up to shield ancient eyes from the sun, left a little trail among the sands in her wake. Upon her wise face, lips tainted a poisonous green frown in wonder…and it left dangerous sensations in her travelling wake.

It appeared to take longer than needed for the woman to hobble over to that body strewn by that shrivelled trunk. But with the negatives of age brings wisdom and it was felt that she possessed plenty to share, to give, to use. But when she finally stood before him, an eyebrow quickly raised in curious question. How had this body gotten here of all places? Interested eyes unseen lay hidden beneath the shadows of her hood.

An ancient voice filled with playfulness croaked a sudden laugh, "Well, well, well, what do we have here, I wonder? A strange boy in a strange land he does not belong in. Tsk, tsk."

She groaned at the weakness of her back as she then bent low to examine the stranger, squinting through rounded spectacles half obscured by violet material. Another frown crossed her beak at the sight to behold.

"Tsk, tsk. Dear me, dead as everything else I see. I should have known. No matter, I shall fix you back up in a heartbeat boy…you will be useful to me."

Whether she spoke to herself or the boy would remain a mystery to the leering vultures above.

The old woman suddenly bent lower as she grumbled a complaint under foul breath. Or at least…it appeared a complaint had been her muttered words. Yet, if anyone had merely been there to listen, they would have felt shocked to discover the truth: words grumbled and quiet formed a fatal spell. This old woman possessed magic!

All of sudden, her shaky hand lifted tentatively to the boy. The atmosphere about his frame drastically fell into a deadly chill. Not even the desert's heat could penetrate such powerful magic as hers. Purple sparks ignited abruptly about her clawed fingers, her green nails sharp enough to cut flesh glowing gold. Strange smoke hovered around the neck of the boy she cast upon. Tension choked. The vultures cowered. Nothing dared disturb her concentration.

However, a little gasp suddenly escaped her against her will as magic flickered; she was getting too old, too weak. With age came the unstoppable force of frailness…which she loathed with her entire being.

Much to her distaste, she scowled at being forced to let the spell subside. Her grunt pierced the air as she swept her hand away from him, snarl in place on a wrinkled face, a mighty crack snapping true as she was forced to break the spell. For a few moments all she could do was impatiently wait with heaviness upon her heart. Experienced eyes dulled by age watched in longing.

A crackling snap resounded. Thick smoke vanished, revealing the mercilessness of a glint of iron shining gold clamped around the corpse's neck—a choker fixed to a shackle—and she held its mighty chain. She sighed in exhaustion and wiped the sweat from her brow with the back of her spare hand. The old face crinkled with thoughts as the hand lowered to tap her chin: when had simple spells become such a brutal task? Or maybe…just maybe…_her_ magic was not the problem? Brown eyes that briefly revealed themselves sparked in evil glee beneath her hood, expression concerned yet triumphant.

_I shall take him to my lair…there I shall call his soul back from the Underwhere. But first, I will fix his mangled body when we return home. Tsk, tsk, he looks horrendous! _The woman rolled her eyes as she mentally schemed.

Without even batting an eyelash caked in emerald mascara, she clicked her demonic fingers. In a heart beat and no less, the much smaller boy floated from sands so foreign as if grabbed by invisible hands. A pearly cloud of magic carried his body with great gentleness behind her as she turned and hobbled an identical path back from whence she came.

The two starving vultures up in their branches merely looked disappointed to watch their breakfast escape, yet refused to make arguments and snorted in distain through their wicked beaks. After what had just transpired they feared that old woman with a passion and would not dare fight for what they saw as their meat. Anybody would fear that woman, that mysterious old woman, if they met her face to face.

A blistering sun finally unhooks from the horizon, slowly rising higher into the morning's cloudless blue. Red sands glitter innocently against its first deadly rays like a sea of crushed gems and ancient treasures. Goodness knows what lurks in these sands of danger. Who knows the secrets behind a desert dune, or a perilous cave…or beneath the branches of a wretched tree? Ancient history in hidden tombs was of no importance. Precious stones did not matter. Why…?

Because an old woman had already discovered her treasure amongst the vast wilderness.

She hesitantly glanced over her shoulder at his face while she trudged onward.

"Why a jester such as himself is here is beyond me. Time will tell, time will tell."

Little did she know that up, up, up beyond her view, above in skies so distant and far, a crow watched with curious eyes.

XXXX

Somewhere unknown it remains sinisterly dark, all except the peculiar glow from in the centre of the room. Chains tainted with rust hung above, lacing the stone ceiling and reflecting the bluish glow. Upon a pedestal of intricately laced steel, twisted with curves, reminding one of spiralling vines weaving around one another, a ball of beautiful black crystal resides. There lies that crystal ball…that eye of fate.

Beside it a man stood whose cloak of black billowed like an omen of death about his sturdy frame. A mask of impure metal, long since given to him by his secret master, long since a curse of the fallen, reflects the magical light of the crystal against its moulded beak. No emotion crossed the frown steeled by years of training while he stared deep within the object's core.

Something unknown seemed to stir the shadows among stony corners—the very hearts of darkness an aspect of his soul.

"My loyal friend, what do you see?" Blorian whispered, voice of ice eerily echoing throughout this dungeon of stone and consuming shadow.

Immediately, the glow of the crystal sphere brightened to blinding heights. Suddenly, an image too blurry to recognise began to fade into shape. Colours twisted and turned, waved and weaved, swirled and swept across its fragile surface, and Blorian's gauntlet fingers brushed against it with an inquisitive clink. One thing took shape, then another, one after another. Ever, ever so agonisingly slowly, he found himself gazing deep within at the image that had finally become clear.

"So, Kamek has finally revealed herself," Blorian coldly stated, glare fixed upon the woman in the desert…and the stranger she possessed. "Fifty years she has lain dormant, and now the time has come to bring justice. As for the spare—"

"Let me out of here you freak! Golly, this place stinks!"

Strong concentration harshly severed. Much to Blorian's bottle of irritation filled with silent anger, the image before his eyes fluctuated from anxiety before dispersing into nothingness...the sound of a crow's startled yelp the last thing to fizzle through. All that remained was the sickening black ball once more, glowing blue in the darkness.

A sinister growl rumbled from deep within his throat. That voice had become a novelty in these dungeon walls, and he audibly clenched his fingers in hate. That girly voice, so ridiculously high, so annoying, pierced the concrete barriers of his very skull. He spun around as fast as lightning. A black cloak billowed epically. Dangerous eyes beneath a mask turned fiery glares to the face behind bars.

"Maiden…" A slowly pronounced hiss. A terrifying scowl unseen. His tone remained icy enough to freeze her inner soul over as he slowly stepped towards her. Clunk…clunk…clunk…boots of black leather, silver wings protruding from their sides, rattled unnervingly in silence weighed by fear. He drew close; he slowly bent down to the bars of which she tightly grasped—meeting her face to face. Never had such an action held such threat. His next words could have killed her heart if it was not so rebellious. "Maiden, I would remain silent…or I will not hesitate to magically tear those pretty, little, green limbs off one by one. You will die a slow and painful death…I assure you."

"Try me, punk!" She yelled, her eyes of pure malice and frustration screaming for revenge. "If you saw my true form you would run for the hills, Bird-Brain!"

"Is that a threat?"

The young girl tensed. Those words…never had she heard such venomous danger. Those words made her grimace in alarm; they seemed to peck at the barriers of her already chilled soul. She swallowed aloud, her composure somewhat slipping, and Blorian's aura flickered in satisfaction.

Blorian's voice reverberated throughout prison walls with powerful intentions, "Perhaps, Maiden…you would care to tell me where your _friends _are now?"

Her blazing gaze darted to him, her bruised fingers tightening on the bars she grasped. How she had survived this long was beyond her knowledge. There, there in the pools of her eyes, a foreshadowing glisten of tears shone against the ever-present blue glow. Eyelids sorrowfully closed as she sighed a hefty sigh.

"I already told you, I don't know. We got separated," She croaked.

Blorian snorted in distrust and gave a disdainful sneer.

The Maiden's face suddenly froze in absolute horror when the Raven King raised his hand. She flinched, preparing for a punishing strike. But something far worse instead occurred. Gauntlet fingers clicked. The heart-stopping snap pierced the strangling silence…and suddenly footsteps of another could be heard descending stairs beyond the closed prison door.

"Very well, have it your way. More torture should loosen that tongue of yours, Minx. Perhaps a bit more abuse will jog that memory, do you agree? Of course you do not. Either way, if you truly do not know anything…you will die anyway."

"No! Please, I really don't know anything!" Fear, fear sucked the life from her face. Green skin turned sickly pale as she hastily threw herself to the back of her cell: petrified, breathless, panicking.

At those words, one loyal follower rushed in. The door burst open with a tremendous bang. It rang through their ears, made smirking demons that were the shadows cackle. Unceremoniously, a young man yelped as he blundered in: visibly afraid, young, and clumsy. He appeared newer than the other Raven Callers, his raven mask bronze rather than silver to display his rank, and his composition anything but graceful.

"Yes, Sir, y-you called Sir?"

_Well actually Bird-Brain didn't say anything, dummy._ The prisoner crossed her arms and on purpose rolled delicate eyes, shaking her head with a disdainful snort through her nose. _This_ was her escort? This pathetic thing she could trip with her _own_ legs let alone her true form's spidery eight? An eyebrow rose in disbelief while she watched him fidget nervously before the Raven King, for in comparison to their leader he was merely a fledgling.

Blorian frighteningly turned to face him, who in turn gulped in visible unease. The King's tone remained cold like a winter breeze freezing the rivers of blood in your veins, "Take this prisoner to the Torture Chamber. If nothing comes, keep her within an inch of death…I shall finish her myself."

"Y-Yes, Sir," The soldier stuttered.

"Care to avoid this and speak now, Mimi?" Blorian asked as a casual drawl, not once glancing to her now frightened face behind bars.

In utter despair, Mimi merely shook her head. "I have already told you the truth, I know nothing."

The cell door abruptly flew open with a horrid squeak of metal that many prisoners had learned to fear. Suddenly, Mimi cried out in shock and pain as she was harshly yanked out by her hair by the Raven King and thrown into the hands of his follower, who bowed in respect and took off like a raven with the struggling prey in his talons. Fainter and fainter her boisterous yells grew. Further and further she was dragged away.

Blorian spared her no more. He returned soulless eyes to his crystal ball, staring deep into his own reflection.

"Then your soul shall go to the Overthere when you perish under my hand."


End file.
